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#drawing them as babies healed my soul and it was great fun

inklessletter · 1 year

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Hi there! It's Vane (or Bane) speaking, thank you for coming by. I'm in my thirties, I'm from Spain (English is not my native language, so if you see something odd, you know the reason now), I've got the laziest dog in the world and I'm currently hyperfixating on Stranger Things, especifically on steddie, so most of my posts will be about that, even though the original intention was it to be more generic. Joke's on me. I should just cut the crap and just use an ST icon, I'm not fooling anyone, I'm in love now.

I've been drawing since I was a little girl, but I've had some sort of traumatic experiences showing my stuff online lately, and I'm trying to make peace with that, so I made this blog with the intention to actually be bolder and share the few things I do. I expected it to be more drawings than fics, but I guess I keep surprising myself, so, yeah, I'll embrace the change. I've realized that writing fics is healing my soul in ways I've not expecting, so, you know, I'm kind of my own target audience, but if you like what I do, feel free to comment or share my posts, or to engage in a converstion about common interests, my asks are always open. I'm always happy to meet new people and I'm glad to interact with anyone.

Above all, this blog is a hate free space. We are all here to have fun and respect each other, so, if by any chance there's someone who doesn't like what is posted here, I politely invite them to just leave. Keep the hate away, please and thank you.

Also, I must say that I'm not aiming to post +18 stuff, but I am also not aiming to stop reblogging things for adult if I feel like it, so, you must be warned about this. This means, that at some point I could post NSFW, always specifically writing down a warning, even in the masterlist. By the way, I must ask minors to not interact if in such posts or else you will be immediately blocked. This goes for blank accounts and accounts that might be suspiscious to me, too.

I feel the need to please ask people to NOT post my pictures as their own (reblogging the post is always welcome, but reposting is NOT), and if you want to use any of my drawings, please ask for permission first to know how to use it correctly. Respect the artist, please.

That being said, I'm going to proceed to make a MASTERLIST of my posts (I'm fascinated with all the talent in this site, I keep reblogging amazing things and then I'm having trouble finding my own stuff). Most of my works are on AO3 so, please, read the tags there if you want!

Fanfics

Faith, should I take a leap? [oneshot - steddie]

Back when I was living (for the hope of it all) [oneshot - steddie]

I think I've seen this film before (and I didn't like the ending) [oneshot - light ronance]

Is it chill that you're in my head ('cause I know that is delicate) [oneshot - steddie]

Laughing on a park bench thinking to myself (hey, isn't this easy?) [oneshot - steddie]

It's a love story (baby, just say yes) [chapter 4/6 - steddie] ONGOING

You drew stars (around my scars) [oneshot - mike w. & steve h.] Bonus scene!

All I can say is it was enchanting (to meet you) [oneshot - steddie]

Fanarts

Steve Harrington B&W [digital art - FINAL]

Steve Harrington B&W [digital art - WIP]

Eddie Munson B&W [digital art - WIP]

Robin Buckley [digital art - WIP]

Steve Harrington Scoops Ahoy! [digital art - FINAL]

Steve Harrington Scoops Ahoy! [digital art - WIP + LINEART]

You're dangerous, Harrington [lineart color final]

It was very metal, what you did. That's all I'm saying [digital art]

Are you real? [sneak peak lineart grayscale final]

I'm not sure if you're mine, or if I'm yours [sneak peak lineart grayscale final]

Harder, Munson [sneak peak lineart final]

Is this shit recording yet? [digital art - FINAL]

I will keep updating this list. Thank you very much, and I hope you have a great day!

(By the way, if you haven't guessed yet, yes, I'm a swiftie, too).

Love,

Vane

#inklessletter #welcome post #masterlist #fanfics #fanarts

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ventisehe · 3 years

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being in a relationship with bennett and razor / genshin impact

i main these boys and they make such a great team, i love them so much. i had a lot of fun writing this hehe. again, all characters are aged up, 21 or older unless stated otherwise. this includes chongyun and xingqiu.

requested by: pastelpeachyposts

includes: bennett, razor

warning: unedited, not proofread

You, Bennett, and Razor were an unusual trio, and many will attest to this statement. You differ in personalities and ambitions, even favoring completely contrasting delicacies, and yet there will never be a more lively and iconic dynamic than the three of you.

You and Bennett were the first one to meet when he rescued you from a group of vicious Electro Slimes. He was successful in his intent, but you had to escort him back to Mondstadt where he can be healed by the Deaconess.

You met Razor the next after you grew comfortable with your friendship with Bennett. The latter excitedly told you about another friend of his who resided in Wolvendom and was quite well acquainted with the wolves. Your first encounter with Razor was rather tense, and understandably so. He was wary of you, watching your every move as you strolled around Wolvendom with a gleeful Bennett who was oblivious to the atmosphere between the two of you. Most of his experience with humans are less than ideal but as Bennett unknowingly forced the two of you to spend time together, his walls slowly broke and he accepted you as one of his Lupicals.

As time passed and the three of you grow closer and closer together, a revelation descended upon you, and a startling one at that. You acquired feelings for both boys. It wasn't difficult for you to understand why you grew to like both of them. They were so easy to fall in love with. Bennett is an adventurous and motivated boy who, although had a streak of bad luck in him, has a positive spirit and is very generous and caring towards everyone. Razor is a strong yet gentle soul who is protective over those dear to him, and will always go out of his way to show his affection with his uncommon but innocent gifts.

Unbeknownst to you, the two share the same feelings for you. Bennett knew he liked you when you refused to leave after he saved you, even after he insisted this was a normal occurrence for him. Razor took a while to understand what was that hammering in his chest after you took the responsibility of caring for the wolf pups his Lupicals gave birth to.

It was an awkward situation for the three of you when Bennett and Razor decided to confess to you at the same. When the two of them professed their love for you and offered their gifts with bowed heads and tightly closed eyes, they slowly turned to look at each other with puzzlement, heads tilted and eyebrows furrowed. You, however, stood in front if them with redness coating your face and a thundering heartbeat.

"You like ( Your Name ) too, Razor?" Questioned Bennett, gaping at him.

Razor nodded once. "Like her, very."

Normally, when two people discover that the a close friend of theirs holds the same affection to their person of interest, a quarrel will ensue, and estrangement will follow. But Bennett and Razor were very unlike such an example and instead of compromising their close friendship, the two came to an agreement that whoever you should choose - if you indeed have feelings for one of them - they will remain friends and accept your decision.

Imagine the surprise on their faces when you leaned forward and gave each one of them a small peck on their nose, admitting shyly that you have feelings for both of them.

It took some time for the three of you to get used to your relationship. After all, none of you have ever been in a relationship before, not to mention there was the three of you in it. You carefully treaded through uncertainties and tribulations of inexperience, and it took a while but the you, Bennett, and Razor got the hang of how to make your relationship work.

Bennett is always the one dragging you and Razor to adventures. He will come knocking at your door with a wide grin, Razor lingering behind him and giving you a small smile and a shy wave.

"We're going to Windrise today! I heard some adventurers saying they spotted a weird looking Hilichurl with a briefcase! Wanna join us?" Asked Bennett excitedly, eyes shimmering.

Razor glanced at the other boy before returning his gaze at you with firmness. "I will protect you both. No worry."

You can't ever say no to them, especially when both of them look so happy and thrilled.

Razor is the protector of the relationship. With the dangerous enviroment he grew up in and the training he took under the supervision of a human, it was to be expected. He was always on the prowl, prepared to draw out his claymore and defend you and Bennett from any enemies with an evil intent.

You and Bennett are never worried of being attacked out of nowhere with Razor around you.

Razor takes his responsibility as your protector seriously. The rare times he and Bennett come over at your place, he will never allow himself to fall asleep and would sit by the window where he can oversee your residence. You and Bennett would have to drag him to your bed and convince him that you were in a safe enviroment to make him ease down and actually take a rest.

You three share the same bed, and it's always you in the middle. Bennett will cling on to your slumbering form and would snore from time to time, but when you stroke his hair or when Razor softly nudge his head against his, Bennett will quiet down for a while and continue snoring again after. Razor was quite a sight to see when sleeping. Being raised and cared for by wolves, it was to be expected he would mimic their position in sleeping. He would curl up beside you or Bennett, always nuzzling his face against the crook of your necks. You and Bennett will never say it but he looks so adorable when sleeping like that.

You and Razor know of Bennett's unluckiness. Unfortunately, because you're in a relationship, you two are more involved in his bad luck. Bennett is always guilty of putting the both of you in difficult situations and will apologize profusely, even when the two of you insist that it wasn't his fault.

"It kind of sucks that I'm also giving bad luck to the two of you. I mean, you're one of the few good things that ever happened in my life." He admitted in a gentle whisper, a pout forming on his visage as tears begin to appear at tbe corners of his eyes.

You and Razor felt like an arrow shot through your hearts at what he said and you spend your time cheering up Bennett. Although his unluckiness always seemed to hinder your attempts, Bennett appreciated and loved your efforts, which is enough to bring back his big smile.

When the rare times come when one of you are busy and cannot find time for the other two, the latter pair will frequently visit the missing member, often with gifts.

Bennett loves giving you kisses. Not just on the lips, but all over your face. When your relationship was still at the early stages, Bennett would lean forward towards your face and pull back after an awkward amount of time of hesitation. But when you told him that he is allowed to give you kisses and you would love to receive them, Bennett will take all the chances to shower you with kisses. He loves giving kisses more than receiving because he has so much love to give, but when you do the same to him, his cheeks will be painted in a rich scarlet color and his tongue will be tied, unable to anything except stammering.

"A-Ah, ( Your Name ), please, stop - " Stuttered Bennett as he covered his blushing face with his gloved hands, embarrassment palpable in his posture.

You let out a giggle as you took his hands and tried to pry them off. "Aww, don't be like that, Benny. Let me see your cute face. And I know you love my kisses."

Bennett splutteted.

Razor prefers to give you hugs over kisses. His hugs are big, warm, and welcoming. You'll always feel safe when you're in his arms. When you're in his embrace and you're both comfortable, you won't be leaving his arms for a while. Sometimes Bennett will wiggle himself into the embrace and the three of you just cuddle.

"You're so warm, Razor." You whispered as you nestled yourself on his chest.

Razor showed you a small smile. "I make you feel safe?"

You let out a laugh. "And loved."

More often than not, Bennett and Razor will convene and think of something to surprise you. These boys are filled with love for you that even if there's no occassion, they'll come together to buy you a gift they thought of together.

Bennett gives you trinkets from his solo adventures, but even if most of the time they're broken or burnt, you heartily accept them. Razor always gives you items that are found in the wild such as sweet flowers, mushrooms, pinecones, windwheel asters, sometimes wolfhooks, and if he was lucky, an abundant amount of fowls. You mentioned once how you needed ingredients to make food while you're out adventuring alone, or some things for this thing you call ascension. You love their gifts and always make good use of them or take good care of them.

Bennett had long introduced Razor to his dads (a group of adventurers who saved Bennett long ago). When he introduced you to them, you were immediately flocked and you regaled with tales of their adventures back when they were young, and Bennett was just a wee baby then. You stayed with them for hours, just listening. All the while, Bennett just enjoyed watching you get along with his family so well. Since the adventurers were old, you visit them often and help Bennett take care of them.

Some would think meeting Razor's family would be difficult. They are wolves, after all, and they were known for being vicious. But they couldn't be more wrong Anyone Razor trusted, the wolves trusted so they immeditely accepted you in their pack and treated you the way they treated Razor. They surround you whenever they sense danger, ready to pounce on whatever enemy emerges. The wolves would stay close by and let you snuggle into their fur when the weather is cold. Razor really likes it when you play with the wolf pups and help in hunting dinner for his family.

Bennett and Razor talk about you with their families. Bennett's dads approved of you the very second they saw a glimmer in his eyes when he mentions you, and even though the wolves cannot understand Razor's human speech, they can sense the love in his voice and the frequent drop of your name makes them understand it was directed to you.

" - she and Razor helped me fight an Abyss Mage earlier!" Bennett exclaimed, beaming. "If it weren't for them, I would've probably returned back here with more injuries, hehe."

"( Your Name ) made Bennett and me flower bracelets." Razor then proceeded to lift his arms to show the wolf pups the bracelet he mentioned. "Now, Razor need to take care of it, so me not moving around much."

The three of you always walk hand in hand together, you in the middle. You will swing your linked hands together and Bennett will follow your lead. You and Bennett will have to encourage Razor do the same and have to explain the process of it. Razor will be a little confused at first but then begin enjoy the hand swinging once he get used to it.

Dates are frequent, and it'll always be with the three of you. You all promised never to have a date with someone missing. There will be times where the boys will want a private date with you, but most of the time, it's always you three.

Bennett's dates are adventurous - of course - and unique. He'll find some place you haven't seen before or find an activity you three can try. You'll experience a lot of things in his dates, this includes being attacked out of nowhere and having to save Bennett from time to time. Nonetheless, his dates are always fun and will your heart palpitating.

Razor's dates are simple and peaceful. He'll find a nice and safe place with a beautiful view and the three of you have a picnic there. He's always the one preparing the food for you to eat, but you and Bennett will always bring desserts for Razor to try. Razor insisted that he wanted to learn more human dishes and he can find motivation in doing so by having you and Bennett eat them. His cookings at first were not up to standards - or consumption - but the more dates he arrange, the better he becomes. You mentioned once you liked his hash brown shaped as a puppy paw print and strived to perfect it. If you're lucky, he'll even bring a wolf pup or two.

In your dates, you always make sure you cater to your partners interests. You will do something Bennett likes to do, and then what Razor likes, and then something the three of you can bond over. With that, your dates are always chaotic (not as chaotic as Bennett's dates though) but extremely fun.

Bennett and Razor are suckers for your compliments. They always love getting them from you. Although the two have different ways of accepting them.

Bennett cannot easily accept compliments. It was rare for him to receive one with his bad luck and whenever he does get one, he malfunctions. What more if it comes from you?

Bennett will shake his head vigorously as redness painted his cheeks, waving his arms as though denying your compliment.

"( Your Name ), y-you can't mean that! I-I'm not that great!"

"But Benny," You cooed, as you leaned closer to him, smiling. "You're one of the best person I've ever met! You're kind, sweet and - "

As you continue praising him, Bennett will slowly, slowly accept your compliments, and you might not know, but your compliments are building his confidence in himself. Bennett is a happy and positive boy but his bad luck caused him so much troubles and backlash that his self esteem plummeted. Continue supporting and praising this boy, you're making him super happy.

"I guess I do have some good qualities . . . thanks ( Your Name ). You're really cool, too. And very pretty." Bennett admits as he rubbed the back of his head.

Razor's compliments to Bennett are simple and straightforward, and somehow Bennett accepts them easier than yours. Probably because it's simple and straightforward.

Unlike Bennett, Razor accepts your compliments with a smile and always returns your compliments with one of his own. He doesn't know why some people are embarrassed being complimented. It was a nice thing to do, after all.

"You're really strong, Razor!" You exclaimed after watching the Cryo Abyss Mage he was battlinng evaporate in thin air.

Razor faced you, a smile gracing his briks as he wiped a sweat from his brow. "Thank you. You strong too."

"I can fight Hilichurls, but I'll need some backup if it's Abyss Mages." You laughed. "But thanks, Razor!"

Razor and Bennett insisted that they help you train. You have seen how they fought and trained, and you were a bit reluctant because of its harshness, but after contemplating over its benefits like being able to defend yourself, helping more in adventures, and being able to finally properly protect Bennett and Razor, you accepted.

Bennett is very eager to teach you what he knows and has brought you and Razor to a nearby Hilichurl camp to showcase his abilities and give you pointers after. You and Razor end up carrying him back to the Mondstadt with his arms over your shoulders, the Hilichurl camp up in flames behind you two.

"Did I . . . defeat them?" Questioned Bennett. He couldn't lift his head from the exhaustion and pain.

"Yes, you definitely did." You answered.

Razor's training was a bit more proper but you haven't learned much because his training required claymore, and you were far from being a claymore user. Razor demonstrsted how to pick up a claymore but you couldn't even lift it off the ground.

You pouted as your hands lets go of the handle of the claymore. "I couldn't do it."

Razor approached you and patted your head. "Good effort. Maybe claymore not for you."

Bennett and Razor now always goes to you when they need patching up. Now, they could go and visit Barbara like they used to but they preferred that you tend to their wounds for two reasons. One, they love you and love spending time with you. Two, they get kisses on each wound you cover.

Bennett has a habit of running towards you and Razor at full speed and tackling you both down to the ground, hugging the two of you. You and Razor don't mind it and actually enjoy this sort of thing.

Razor named wolf pups after you and Bennett. This causes confusion when you visit him at Wolvendom.

"Bennett, sit." Ordered Razor.

Bennett and wolf pup Bennett both sat down at the same time.

"( Your Name ), stop playing with food." Razor reprimanded sternly.

You looked down at your plate of neatly cut steak strips while wolf pup ( Your Name ) who sat by your feet poking at the meat it was eating whimpered.

When a fight ensues between you three, it won't take long before you relent and make amends. You three have soft hearts and can never stay angry at each other for too long. You apologize and promise to be better and more understanding.

But if a fight arises between only a pair, the one who isn't part of the fight courts the other two to make up already. If you and Bennett have an argument, Razor will push Bennett to talk things out with you. If you and Razor are the ones in the argument, Bennett will panic and will have a hard time choosing who to approach first. You and Razor make up after the two of you try to comfort Bennett at the same time. If Bennett and Razor were the ones in an argument, you can easily talk to them individually and the two will approach the other and apologize.

Bennett and Razor never compete to be your favorite. They know you love both of them equally, and they love you just as much. You have never felt unloved when you're with them. You three are content and happy.

The most wholesome relationship ever.

"And you two got ambushed by a Geovishap - wait a minute - " Your eyelids curtained your retinas as your digits delicately massaged your temples, trying to ease the pressure in your head as Razor and Bennett averted their guilty gazes from you. Their skis were marred in cuts and bruises, their hair disheveled, and clothes torn from what you suspect were large and sharp claws from a humongous creature. " - how did you two even encounter . . . what was it again - a Geovishap? I know there isn't one in Mondstadt."

Bennett reached out to rub a his hand of his over his neck as he tried to dismiss the mystery at hand with a chuckle. "Uh, well, we kinda . . . " He trailed off, clearly not fond of the idea of continuing his sentence.

Your eye fluttered open and you lifted a brow at Bennett. "You what?"

Bennett opened his mouth to answer but right when you thought he was about to speak, he nudged Razor with his elbow and whispered, "You tell her."

Razor turned to you and looked at you with reluctant eyes, shoulders slackening. "Me and Bennett," He began, " - went to Liyue."

You let out a deep at their answer, your hands slipping from your hips. "I knew it. I heard the two of you talking about doing a commission there. I just didn't think you'd go through with it, and without mentioning it to me." You stated. "Do you know how worried I was when the two of you didn't visit me earlier? I had to learn from Katheryne you took on a commission."

Bennett and Razor casted their gazes away, guilt crowning their expression.

You heaved out a sigh. "At least you two are back safely. And alive."

You approached the two boys who have yet to return their sights on you and assessed their forms, scrutinizing each of them carefully. "You poor things. Those look painful." You murmured. "Need me to patch you up?"

Bennett's and Razor's eyes shimmered at your offer, and the two nodded eagerly in response. Any traces of shame vanquished for they know your disappointment has evaporated and they were forgiven. "Yes, please." The two answered in unison.

You permitted a small laugh to escape your lips. "Alright, alright," You tittered. "Follow me, then."

Before you can even move, Bennett interjected. "W-Will we still get kisses . . . " The white haired adventurer turned completely red as he realized how silly his words were. " . . . you know what I mean . . . "

Razor looked down, a shy expression encompassing his features, to which surprised you. "Razor wants kisses too . . . from ( Your Name )."

Your heart jumped in your chest at the sight of their hopeful and coy expressions. Even if you wanted to tease them a little for this as payback, your heart couldn't. You shook your head at them and clasped their cheeks, one hand on the other as you stared into their eyes.

"You two . . . " You whispered, breathing out. " . . . you make it so hard to be angry with you."

Their only response was a grin.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #razor x reader #bennett x reader

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monicashipslokius · 3 years

Text

Soulmates, Actually - Pt 2

(Read part one)

Despite their desire to buy Mobius more appropriate clothing as the soulmate of a god, Loki knows they’re not welcome back in Asgard. Not without facing some serious repercussions anyway - none of which they’re willing to subject Mobius to, by association.

So while they temporarily ‘magicked’ themself and Mobius away from the dark streets of that German city to a sunny, hot desert, they aren’t totally sure where to go next. They need a safe harbor, but few would give refuge to the notorious god of mischief. And therefore, again, to Mobius by association.

Some soulmate Loki is turning out to be.

Their displeasure must show on their face, because Mobius clutches their forearm and rubs his thumb back and forth in gentle strokes near the dip of their elbow. Loki closes their eyes a moment, and they take a breath. How such a simple gesture from their soulmate could bring such peace... Truly Loki is the most fortunate being in the universe. Even... even after everything else they’ve been through.

“We cannot stay here,” Loki says, eyes still closed, humiliated by their own incompetence.

“It’s not so bad,” Mobius says, chipper as ever. “I’m a bit overdressed, but...”

Loki opens their eyes again to see Mobius tug at the lapel of his suit. He is already sweating through the shirt underneath.

Humans are such fragile things, in need of such diligent care-taking. Something unpleasant claws at Loki’s ribcage from the inside. A voice whispers in their ear, You are not enough.

“Hey, I got an idea,” Mobius says, squeezing Loki’s arm in excitement. A smile slides easily across his lips. “We could go back to my place. Sure. Yeah. It’s not exactly built for royalty, but... There’s running water and some shade and a fridge with lots of soda pop.”

Loki frowns, confused, though they’re sure they understood most of those words. “...Soda pop?”

“Only the best brands. Yeah, this is great! Okay. Dubuque isn’t going to know what hit them.”

Loki tilts their head. “...Dubuque?”

Mobius nods, cheerful smile never dimming. “Iowa. I was only in Germany for a data analysis conference. Speaking of, I should probably text my coworker and let her know I’m not dead. I don’t want them to start a job search for my replacement yet. I told you how important my job is?”

Loki frowns harder, even as Mobius steps closer. He holds onto their shoulders.

“Dubuque, Iowa, get ready. Here comes the god of mischief and their soulmate!”

Loki isn’t sure what they expected Dubuque, Iowa to be like, but the lodgings they teleport into, presumably Mobius’s lodgings, are hopefully not a fair representation of the city as a whole.

“Home sweet home,” Mobius says.

“Is this a closet?” Loki asks, peering around the large single room. A bed is wedged against the far wall under a pair of small windows. To their immediate left, is the semblance of a minuscule kitchen - a sink, a few cabinets, and the promised refrigerator.

“Now, I know it doesn’t seem like much, but this place has everything you could ever need.”

Mobius walks into the living quarters. Three strides and he’s already halfway across the room. He goes to the windows and draws back the sheer curtains. The slightly improved lighting does nothing for Loki’s opinion. The walls, the bedspread, the carpeting - all shades of a light brown that Loki cannot tell is intentionally pale or faded over time.

“Bathroom’s through there,” Mobius says, pointing to a doorway off the corner that doubles as a bedroom.

Loki checks, and finds it lacking. There is not even a bath!

“Are all Midgardian accommodations like this?” Loki asks. They try to keep the disdain from their voice, for Mobius’s sake - but it is precisely for Mobius’s sake that they are so outraged!

“Oh. Well? Nah.” Mobius rubs the back of his neck. “I guess a lot of places are bigger, though it’s important, I think, to be happy with what you have.” He lifts his shoulders, then lets them drop. “Some people don’t have anything.”

Mobius shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it over the bedspread. The sweat down his back speaks of his fragility once more, and Loki turns away. Mobius said he was valued by his company, but if that were true...

“Do all top data analysts have similar accommodations?” Loki asks. They’re still holding the scepter. Looking around, they see another door - a cloak closet? Loki draws open the door, and yes! Coats and shirts stuff the narrow space. Shoes are lined neatly across the floor. Loki tucks the scepter into the back, behind the clothes.

“The company pays me pretty well, actually,” Mobius says. “It’s just that... uh. How do I put this?”

Loki closes the door and turns toward Mobius, who has unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, and is rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

Mobius looks up to the ceiling, then at the bathroom door. “I had a bigger place for a long while, but a few years ago, I downsized. Lots of people buy big in anticipation of... well. But when they reach a certain age, they start to assume that... I guess I’d given up.” He waves an arm out. “This place? It's been enough for just me.”

Loki takes a only small step forward, wanting to be at his side but suddenly afraid to, with Mobius’s sudden vulnerability. Loki doesn’t have the best reputation for healing things. Most of their life, they’ve only been good at breaking.

They fight to keep their voice steady as they say, “You didn’t think you would find your soulmate.”

Mobius shakes his head a little, but when he looks up at Loki, the smile that dimmed sparks back to life. “If I’d known I was waiting for a god, I would have kept the mortgage.” He tucks his head down. “This was probably a bad idea, wasn’t it? This can’t be anything like you’re used to.”

“It’s...not. But.” Loki forces themself to take another step, drawn in by the hopeful gleam in Mobius’s eye.

“But?”

Loki thinks back to when they were young, when they spent hours cultivating dreams that didn’t involve domination of the nine realms. Well, not only that. When they laid awake and thought of all the sweet nothings they would say to their soulmate and all the promises they would make. Back when they thought the universe still held some kindness for them.

They take the final step that brings them to Mobius and tells him, “I would like to stay where you are.”

“Even if it’s this closet?”

“It is... cozy.” Loki glances around. “Though I insist we redecorate.”

Mobius’s smile lights up his eyes, and Loki’s breath catches. They cannot remember the last time they made someone smile like that. Genuine. Bright. Happy.

“So much beige,” Loki says, grinning. “Do you not see the value in a bit more excitement?”

“Trust me,” Mobius says, “I’m starting to.” He glances, ever so slightly, at Loki’s mouth, and Loki has never wanted to kiss anyone as much as they want to kiss this man in this drab apartment.

Loki starts to lean, and for a moment, Mobius does too.

But then Mobius worries his bottom lip between his teeth and steps away instead.

A familiar pang of rejection echos in Loki's chest. Even their own soulmate finds him lacking. They drop their gaze.

"Hey." Mobius touches their face, a finger under their chin, drawing their gaze right back up. "We should go slow, right?" He swallows hard. "I haven't... It's been a long time for me, and with you, I don't want to mess this up."

Loki wants to tell him that he couldn't ruin this, no matter what he did, but that would be a lie. The truth is much more complicated. Their souls are bound together by the cosmos, yes, but unfortunately the cosmos does not provide any training or instruction on how to sustain a lasting relationship.

Loki, themself, hasn't much experience in that matter. They've had their fun, but that was all.

"Is that okay?" Mobius asks, blue eyes like that of a baby fawn. Loki doubts they would deny him anything, ever. But especially not something they also want.

"Yes," Loki says, much softer than intended. They clear their throat and say, stronger, "Of course."

"Great!" That smile returns full-blast, brighter and more scalding than the desert sun. He bounces back a step. "I'm going to go grab a quick shower." He plucks at his shirt. "So sweaty. You okay for a minute?"

Loki shrugs and nods at the same time, as Mobius disappears into the bath-less bathroom. When the door closes behind him, Loki flops backwards onto the beige bed and stares up at the ceiling, flecked with plaster. The mattress sinks pleasantly beneath their weight. Loki thanks the realms that Mobius at least owns a decent bed.

The water turns on in the bathroom, muffled by the door. Mobius begins to sing. Loki hasn't heard the song before but doesn't need to, to know Mobius is singing off-tune and off-rhythm. A particularly bad note draws a startled laugh from Loki.

Loki glances at the door, wishing they could see Mobius's face, knowing he's wearing that infallible smile. A dresser beside the bed blocks their view, and their attention immediately shifts to a series of framed photos atop it. An older photo of a couple - Mobius's parents, presumably, is most prominent on the left. Their severe expressions do not match the tender way they hold the baby in their arms.

Beside that photo, one of a younger Mobius with longer blonde hair and no mustache sitting on a water vehicle, giving a thumbs-up. Loki smiles softly at him, at his beauty, though easily admits to themself that they prefer the Mobius of now - more gray than blonde, and the mustache. Dignified. Handsome. Loki thinks of kissing him again, and exhales. Going slow will be a test of their willpower, but Loki will overcome. For Mobius. For them, together.

The third photo is of a three-story brown building. Mobius's office? Loki rises from the bed to look closer, but - yes. Only a building, with no people in sight. A quick glance around the room proves no more photos. Why would Mobius dedicate one of his few photos to his workplace?

I guess I'd given up.

In the drab monochromatic room, the photo of Mobius on the ocean holds the only splash of color.

In the bathroom, the water turns off, but the singing continues. Loki listens closer, hears now how the chipper tones drop pitch at the end, and in that sound, so near a sigh, they recognize their own sadness.

Loki meets the stern gazes of Mobius's parents in their photo and vows to them, "I will make your son happy again."

The door opens, and Mobius appears, shirtless, a towel around his shoulders, and a pair of gray sweatpants high on his hips.

Loki's usually thunderous brain goes very, very quiet.

Mobius is not chiseled muscle. His shoulders are not particularly wide. He's not tall. But he needn't be any of those things. He is soft, sturdy lines, and stability, and courage, and the most attractive being Loki has ever had the blessing of putting their eyes upon.

Mobius dabs at his wet hair with the end of the towel. "Hey, you found my photos?"

The reminder of the photo of the building is enough to cool Loki's desire, though it still lingers, simmering, in the base of their being.

"Yes." Loki gestures to the offending photo. Mobius sees and drops the towel back to his shoulder.

"That's the office," he says, confirming Loki's suspicions. "It's a nice building, yeah?"

Loki tries not to let their distaste show on their face. Tries, not particularly hard. "Wouldn't you rather have more of your family? Your friends?"

"Oh. Mom and Pop didn't really care much for photos, and they're gone now." He doesn't mention extended family, or any friends - not even the protective work friend who tried to convince him away from Loki on their first meeting. Instead, he gives Loki a sad sort of smile, as big as the others before but so, so different. It doesn't reach his eyes at all.

Sometimes soulmates are very different from each other, practicing a running theory that opposites attract. But more often than not, soulmates share at least one or two very similar traits. Through these traits, they find common ground. Equal footing. A keystone that holds up all the parts of them that are different until they make a bridge.

In Mobius, Loki sees their own loneliness.

"Would you..." Loki pauses, unsure, but the kind curiosity in Mobius's eyes urges them on. "Perhaps we could have a likeness taken of us. To add to your collection."

The light returns to Mobius smile. Loki will fill this entire apartment with photos of them together if it keeps.

"I'd like that, Loki. A lot."

"Good."

Mobius goes to the dresser and pulls open a drawer. He withdraws a gray short-sleeved shirt and pulls it over his head. Then he glances over his shoulder. "You need to borrow something?"

Loki waves their hand and alters their clothing from their princely armor to a silk green sleep-shirt and pants.

"Woah." Mobius looks them up from head to toe and back again. "That's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Loki laughs again, and this time, they aren't so startled. With Mobius, they are starting to expect it.

Mobius glances at the bed. Loki does too. Then at each other.

"I know, technically here in Iowa, it's maybe too early to go to bed, but I've gotta tell you, after this kinda day, I really need a nap." Mobius rubs the back of his neck. His cheeks tint pink. "But, uh there's only one bed. I don't even have a couch. Oh! I know! I'll sleep on the floor." The man reaches for one of the pillows like he actually intends to remove it.

Loki snatches his wrist. "You will do no such thing."

"Well, I'm not going to have a prince sleep on the floor."

"Mobius," Loki says gently. They bring Mobius's imprisoned hand to their mouth and place a soft kiss to his fingers. This fragile, precious human. "No one is sleeping on the floor."

"Oh." The pink in Mobius's cheeks reddens - a beautiful shade. "What... uh, what about going slow?"

Loki rolls their eyes. "I do not intend on impugning your virtue. I merely wish..." Their nonchalance slips rather suddenly, and their voice fails them. Saying their innermost desires aloud has only ever been used against them. That they nearly did so, so casually, shocks Loki to their core. Careless.

Mobius folds his hand over where Loki is clutching his other one, until Mobius holds Loki's in both of his own. He brings Loki's hand to his own mouth and places a soft kiss to each of their knuckles, one after the next, mustache tickling the back of their palm.

"What do you wish, Loki?" Mobius asks.

With Mobius, Loki wants to be careless. But to do so would be to give him power. And with that power, mortal or not, Mobius could crush them, heart and soul.

"I can tell you what I want?" Mobius says. "And you can tell me if you'd like that too."

"Very well," Loki says, breathless.

Mobius kisses the dip between Loki's fingers and thumb, and says, "I want to hold you. Fall asleep with you in my arms."

Loki's throat goes very dry. Their heart hammers wildly in his chest. They wants that. So much. But... no, surely Mobius will realize that is a terrible idea. He will change his mind at any moment. So Loki forces themself to say, voice hoarse, "I could kill you."

Mobius shrugs. He doesn't deny it, but he also doesn't let go of Loki's hand. "I figure you would have done it by now."

"I could be plotting."

Mobius meets their eyes, but they hold only fondness, no suspicion. "Are you?"

"Maybe."

"Mmhmm." He pulls Loki's hand to his chest. "Are you saying you aren't interested in the cuddling? It's okay to say no."

Loki opens their mouth but they still can't say what they want.

"No worries." Mobius kisses Loki's hand and releases it. "I can still sleep on the floor -"

"You will not sleep on the floor," Loki says, the annoyance at such a thing finally giving them their voice back.

"Okay, okay." Mobius holds their hands up. He laughs as he draws back the covers. He slides into the bed and then moves to the other side, pressing up against where the mattress meets the wall, so that Loki can have the open side, without being boxed in. Loki could run. Mobius would let them.

Loki crawls under the covers.

They lie in bed, side by side, both on their backs but not touching. Loki doesn't know how long they stay there, staring at the ceiling, before Mobius rolls onto their side, away from Loki. It feels wrong - too wrong, and in the quiet, Loki tries again to find the courage to have their wishes exposed.

"Mobius," they whisper. If Mobius is already asleep, then they won't -

"Yeah, Loki?"

Loki swallows down their nerves. Mobius has only proven himself trustworthy. They are soulmates. Soulmates trust. "Mobius, I..."

Mobius rolls onto his back. He turns his head toward Loki and waits. He waits, and waits, and waits. Loki wonders if he would wait forever.

His patience is what finally cracks through the walls Loki built.

"Will you hold me?" Loki asks, and braces for rejection. For mockery. For any offer to be rescinded with a joke.

Instead, Mobius turns toward them and holds open his arms. "Come on."

Loki slides into the open spot against Mobius's chest, and Mobius folds his arms around them.

Loki's whole body relaxes at once, all the tension evaporating. Mobius is warm and sturdy against their back. His breaths are hot on the shell of Loki's ear.

"This okay?" Mobius asks.

Loki nods.

"I got you," Mobius says, holding tighter.

Loki waits a long moment, then two. They half want Mobius to fall asleep so they won't hear when they say, "Don't let go."

"I won't," comes Mobius's quick reply, slurred slightly with sleep. "I won't let you go, Loki."

Loki knows they shouldn't, but... they start to believe. And with that knowledge, that safety, sleep follows.

A thunderous knock sounds heavy against the front door, jolting Loki awake.

"Loki?" Mobius asks, rubbing his eye.

“Are you expecting company?” Loki pushes themself upright on the bed, heart racing.

Mobius frowns. “I’m supposed to be in Germany.”

The knocking comes again, louder. So hard the door cracks. Someone on the other side lightly curses, and Loki goes cold. They knows that voice.

Thor.

Here. Now.

“Loki?” Mobius sits upright too, and grips Loki’s shoulders. He’s so fragile, and yet so grounding. His hands are steady. His grip firm. He's as fully awake now as Loki is, and Loki can the concern in his eyes, even in the dark of the room. “Whoever it is, I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Only a fool would make that promise,” Loki says. “It’s my brother on the other side of that door.”

They expect the words to scare Mobius into rescinding his promise of protection, and they steel their heart against the inevitable hurt. You are never enough.

But Mobius does not look afraid. His jaw sets. His brow lowers. If anything, he seems even more determined.

A fool, for sure. Enough to make Loki’s heart swell. And their nerves prickle.

Loki stands, stepping away from the bed. Mobius quickly follows.

Mobius stood against Captain America and Tony Stark, but they were fellow Midgardians. Thor? Thor is of Asgard. Mobius must know he holds no chance against a god.

But he does not seem to care.

“Hide in the bathroom,” Mobius says. “I’ll get rid of him.”

Loki blinks. “Pardon?”

“It will be fine.” Mobius places a hand on the small of Loki's back and gently shoves them towards the tiny bathroom.

“But, Mobius -”

“Listen, Loki. You are my soulmate. Soulmates protect each other.”

“But -” Loki steps into the bathroom, at Mobius’s behest.

Mobius grabs the handle of the door. “He wants to throw you in some Asgardian prison or something, right? That’s not happening.”

“Mobius -”

“I’ll be right back.” Mobius winks, then closes the door, taking Loki’s heart with him.

#i wrote this #lokius #loki x mobius #wowki #soulmate au #part two!!!!!!!!#there will be a part three never fear!#avengers 1 divergence

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

Crawl Home

I thought to myself Hannah why are you so mean to Hotch? Hmm, well, I’m a self-destructive little bastard and he’s a self-destructive big bastard so I just think it’s fun to project onto him. Then I considered -- shit, why not take it out on Emily too? So, I did.

Going to college hadn’t been nearly as difficult as leaving her soul, every good part of Emily Prentiss, behind her in Virginia. But there the pieces of her could be protected and here, in Europe working for Clyde, she can’t be sure she can offer the human parts of her that condolence. Then again, leaving for college had been leaving her mother. Freedom, at the time, she hadn’t known to its full advantage. Leaving Virginia is leaving the only family she’s ever known. The safety of girl’s nights, Dave’s expensive taste in bourbon, and the knowledge that if she had nowhere she still had them. Aaron’s couch where Jack calls her his favorite aunt and Spencer’s library so extensive she’ll never reach the bottom.

Emily is safer there with them.

The case is grueling, ripping apart wounds she thought healed and scarred over. It’s enough to make her consider calling Hotch. She gets so close, finger hovering just over her screen until she remembers that it’s probably three in the morning over there and she’ll probably wake him up. Stealing from him what little sleep he can manage and so she doesn’t call him despite the promise she made him just a few months ago. Looking into the vulnerability he’d laid out between them, needing her to be something unlike him, someone not consumed by this damned job that will take everything.

She took his hand -- rough and damp with his anxiety -- and said the words she knew he wanted to hear. Knowing that stepping foot on that plane, leaving them, was giving the job everything. It’s falling into the trap that nearly killed him and she’d watched it happen and still, she couldn’t stop it from happening to her.

Instead, she texts Garcia for a picture of Sergio and sends Dave a picture of her lunch so he can pride her on actually taking the time to at least try and eat. The food sets a little easier when he sends her some corny-ass text with an emoji he doesn’t really understand. To top it all off, Derek sends her a selfie from the bullpen where he’s actively sitting on Spencer and pinning him still for the photo. It solidifies her, the boost she needed.

See? she asks her reflection, she didn’t need to call Hotch. No need to admit defeat just yet. (and when he sends her a picture of Jack wearing the sweater she got him with the added detail that Hotch is wearing his matching one, she cries in her bathtub and reminds herself this is for the best). So this is what her freshman year roommate met by homesick…

“Clyde,” she announces, avoiding touching him as she slides past him. “After this case, I’m retiring. I’m going to go home and sleep for three days and then you expect my resignation. I’m going to go live in the Alps and hope a bear of some variation eats me after I freeze to death.” She says all this while she pours herself a cup of coffee. This is certainly a situation she’d mirrored with the likes of Hotch, Dave, Derek, and even Reid over the years. Where Clyde meets her with a raised eyebrow Hotch would have handed her his coffee and offered her a dimpled half-grin of agreeance. Dave would have taken her out for lunch. Derek would have hit her shoulder, stolen her coffee, and told her “toughen up, princess, it’s nearly Friday”.

Clyde takes a long pull from his own mug, drawing his eyebrows tight as the bitter, not properly steeped mess of his tea hits his tongue hotter than he anticipated. With a grimace he clicks his tongue, “you’ve got the vacation days.” He takes her by surprise, she wants him so desperately to be someone else. Reid’s bashful, not quite sure what he should say, face or Dave coming to sit on the edge of her desk until she caves and goes for lunch. But Clyde is Clyde is Clyde and he offers her a solution none of the others would have mentioned.

She does have time building up. Fall is rapidly approaching in Virginia and she could get home to see Henry and Jack before school. Spoil them with trinkets to show off to their friends. It’s her favorite season there and it would make great circumstances to steal one of Derek’s sweatshirts and escape with new recipes from Dave to try out. Enough time for so many girl’s nights -- her skin needs the reprieve and Garcia’s hand-picked face masks and JJ’s fantastic taste in wine. She needs to spend too many hours on Hotch’s office couch, listen to his deep baritone start to slur with Dave’s bourbon. To feel Dave’s crushing hug when they pour themselves into a cab and, like an idiot every time, the three of them bunch up in the backseat with her in the middle.

“I can see that look in your eye, Emily.” Clyde points right at her -- again, why does she expect him to be like them and just not profile her -- and he smiles with a shake of his head. “You’re going to go back to them, aren’t you?”

She takes her mug, solutes him with it, and walks away. Here, the rules aren’t the same. There is no Hotch standing over her shoulder, sending a glare in every direction, as the permanent reminder that there is a rule against inter-team profiling. But, that’s the catch. They’re not like her over here. Clyde has no secrets and she’s a field of undiscovered bodies in shallow graves. It doesn’t take a lot to go tripping over her bones.

As she sits herself down behind her desk, she spots the flicker of movement she’s learned to associate with her youngest agent and she knows exactly what the other woman is bringing. She finds herself sighing, feeling that bone-tired Hotch always looked (oh God, she hopes she doesn’t look like that). Why are there so many twisted fuckers in the world? She just wants to take a moment to enjoy her coffee.

“What is it?”

The poor woman coming into her office is taken aback but not entirely thrown off. “We found him.”

There goes her fucking coffee.

“Where?”

She’s going to hug Reid for as long as he lets her and she’s going bully him like he’s her baby brother until his face is red. When she sees Jennifer Jareau she’s going to force herself not to cry and she already knows Henry will be as tall as her by now. He just got glasses -- how do they grow up so fast? She’ll laugh, unabashed and loudly when Derek lifts her off her feet. Squeeze Garcia just as tight as Garcia squeezes her. Let Dave kiss her cheeks and press her face into his jacket when he pulls her in. She’ll snag a hug from Hotch when she knows they aren’t looking and quickly wipe her tear away when he whispers that he missed her.

“Be careful,” Clyde advises around a mouthful of cookie. “Don’t need any more paperwork than I already have.”

She rolls her eyes because it’s funny when he says it…

“Prentiss!” The agents here don’t call her Emily. “Ok, ok, okay--” The shot comes suddenly, unexpectedly and it hits her and for a blinding moment, she feels nothing. Searing, like the brand Ian pressed into her skin and then consuming so quickly that all she feels is hot, intense pain all across her body. “Hold still.”

There’s a blonde woman leaning into her wound, failing despite her desperation to keep Emily’s blood inside her. She looks like JJ -- or maybe the sky is just dark enough and the beams at just the right angle or the blood is pumping so quickly from Emily’s body that her mind is starved. Maybe there isn’t a blonde woman, she’s a hallucination, but it doesn’t matter. Emily just wants to go home.

“Hey, hey!”

Derek. It sounds just like him, his voice and roughly the hand that shakes her shoulder grips at her flesh. She feels weightless, suspended by her hips as she falls backward. The haze of blood loss and shock shutting down her functions. Tears sting her eyes and she sees the people hovering over her -- the distinct lack of Reid’s nervous voice, the hand holding onto hers is neither JJ nor Derek’s -- and she knows she’s not going home.

“Stay with me, Prentiss.”

Will they come here she wonders. If this is it, will they bring her home one last time? She doesn’t want to be buried in Europe. She wants Virginia and the fall and home. She wants to go home.

“Hey, hey--”

She feels the cold sting of a hand across her cheeks but her eyes have sunk. Home.

She just wanted to go home.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #derek morgan #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #david rossi #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #jack hotchner #henry jareau

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Robert Picardo as The Doctor is the best thing about Voyager. Now I’m just imagining him teaming up with Penny.

It’s “Write incredibly niche crossover fic in response to an ask” hour! 🥳️

***

One might assume that when the ship hit an unknown anomaly, resulting in a non-organic entity that produced life signs appearing on the bridge, claiming she was from another reality significantly different from their own, that someone of significant rank would see fit to inform the Chief Medical Officer of this threatening, precarious development.

They didn't. The Doctor only found out when Paris stumbled into his sickbay, arm wrapped gingerly around his waist.

"Hiya, Doc. Don't suppose you know anything about treating hugs?"

"Hugs?"

His programming demanded that he focus on the most life threatening problem at any given time. Nevertheless, the Doctor found his gaze shifting to the woman behind Paris, hovering anxiously in the doorway. She appeared human at first glance, but the mechanisms attached to her legs and the soft, nearly undiscernible hum of a power source gave her away. She smoothed hands down the front of her skirt, casting him curious glances in turn.

Paris heaved himself onto a bed, biting off a curse. "Penny, meet the Doc. Doc, Penny. I bet you two would make great friends, I'd just prefer it if you started gabbing after we figure out if I'm dying."

"If only we were so lucky," the Doctor said, already in the midst of a scan, "Hmm. Sadly, the crew will have to weather your presence a while longer, Lieutenant Paris. Your rib was broken."

"Oh, that's just great, I — wait. Was?"

"Already healed." The Doctor waved the osteogenic stimulator in Paris' face. He bat at it like an obnoxious fly. "Really, you people do make a fuss over the smallest bumps and bruises. You're fragile too. Am I to understand that your eighth rib cracked under the force of a hug?"

Paris gestured across the sickbay, his other arm lightly palpitating his side. "Yeah? Maybe? Ask Ms. Super Strength over there."

The address seemed to break whatever stupor Penny was in. She let out a little gasp and flew to Paris' side, fast enough that the Doctor was left blinking at the near teleportation. He made a note to run a self-diagnosis later, just to ensure his optical processors were functioning properly.

"I did not mean to hurt you, Mr. Paris," Penny said, her voice soft and, seemingly, sincere. She reached out towards the biobed, only to draw her hands back before touching his leg. "I thought for sure that someone on such a dangerous mission, a part of your bridge team, would have his aura unlocked."

Paris blinked. "Aura?"

"Whatever it is she's emitting, I'd wager," the Doctor said, now scanning Penny from the top of her curls to the toe of her boots. At his words a shimmering green light appeared on the surface of her skin, seeming to be both a part of and separate from her. "Huh. Fascinating."

Penny nodded. Crisis averted and conversation turned scientific, she seemed to shake off the previous anxiety, beginning to bounce with a child-like glee. "Yes! Where I come from everyone has aura — it is the manifestation of our souls — but only a few are able to use it. You must train for a very long time and then your aura can protect you!" Penny looked down at her gloved hands, deflating just a bit. "I would like to show you, but I am not a human girl. Or a faunus one. Aura creates a shield to absorb damage and it can heal minor wounds, but though I am the first synthetic being to generate aura, my body is inorganic. Injuring myself would not provide you with the demonstration my friends could give you. I am sorry."

"That's, uh..." Paris pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me see if I understand this. You're sorry that you're not the one who's injured and instantly healing?"

"Yes."

"Right. Well, that's enough alternate reality for one day." Paris hoped down from the bed, patting Penny's shoulder. "Don't even worry about it, kid. Doc's given me a clean bill of health — "

"I've done nothing of the sort. There's clearly something wrong with you, though nothing I’m capable of fixing."

" — and you saved me from another of Tuvok's drills. Can't tell you how grateful I am."

Paris only had two inches on Penny, if that, but she looked up at him like he was larger than life. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. Safety drills with a Vulcan? That's this reality's torture. You're a hero, Penny, no question."

The Doctor was just opening his mouth to remind Lieutenant Paris of their protocols, which included trying to limit the subjective information given to visiting species, when the door opened and in stumbled Ensign Kim.

His expression was poised somewhere between worry and humor. It was, all in all, an unbecoming look.

"Salutations, Harry!" Penny gave a rather exaggerated wave considering they were only a few feet apart. Kim playfully held up his hands, warding off an advance.

"Don't tell me you're injured too," the Doctor said, but it seemed the trio was inclined to ignore him. What utterly rude behavior. He'd certainly never experienced that before.

Harry slung one arm around Penny's shoulders, his other over Paris', drawing the two close together. "Do you want to know a secret?"

"Oh yes!"

"Depends on the secret, Harry..."

He shot a feral grin at Paris. "Remember the fight last month? Gordon laying into Maria over those power couplings?"

The Doctor certainly remembered. It wasn't every day he got to extract a fork from a man's back. Not that Maria had pushed Gordon onto the utensil on purpose. Their rather dramatic fight had led to an equally dramatic makeup, the majority of which, sadly, took place in his sickbay.

"Well," Harry went on, "the Captain wanted me to install some cameras in the mess hall. The whole ship, really, given the number of anomalies we've encountered, you among them." He poked Penny in the ribs, eliciting a giggle. "But the majority of incidents tends to happen over meals, for whatever reason, and what I'm getting at is that I now have a recording of Tom Paris getting tackled by a little girl and crying like a baby."

"Delete it," Tom said at the exact moment Penny apologized again. For a second their three voices overlapped, demands, guilt, and elation all blending together. The Doctor observed the strange phenomenon, trying to follow what precisely had taken place. Something about Lieutenant Paris sharing his replicator rations, thus earning said, rib-crushing hug? Not that it mattered. The point, according to Ensign Kim, was that he'd secured the best moment in Voyager history on tape and, yes, he'd already sent a copy to everyone on board.

Such interactions, though humorous in their own way, were not meant for a professional environment. The Doctor had just opened his mouth to tell them all to get out, take the reality-bending anomaly with you, when the Captain saved him the trouble.

"Ensign Kim, Lieutenant Paris, please report to my ready room immediately."

"You're busted," Paris sang, doing a strange little dance.

"I'm busted? You're the one who tried to counterfeit extra rations for her — !"

And away they went, bickering all the while. The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief.

That is, until he realized that Penny hadn't gone with them.

"Ah... hello?"

"Salutations!"

The Doctor winced. "No need to shout. I'm right beside you."

"Oh. I am sorry." Penny came even closer, rocking forward on the balls of her feet. "Mr. Paris called you 'Doctor.' My father is a doctor too. He is the one who built me."

"And he did quite a remarkable job of it," he said, taking another few, discrete scans. "But I am a medical doctor, not a... biological engineer, I suppose, and as impressive a specimen as you are, I have a great deal of work to do. Not the least of which is adding your information to the ship's database in case your presence causes more than just a cracked rib. Because we certainly wouldn't want to inform the Chief Medical Officer of a new passenger, now would we? So if you would please...?" The Doctor made a few shooing motions that he hoped she understood. There was no way to tell how people in her reality might communicate, especially through something as complex as body language.

Case in point: Penny gave him a salute in return. The Doctor could only stare. No one had ever saluted him before.

...he rather liked it.

"Doctor?" Another hiss as the doors opened. Penny began vibrating.

"Salutations, Kes!"

The Doctor winced. "Is that the only greeting you know?"

"Says the man who begins every conversation with 'Please state the nature of the medical emergency.'"

Today was just a bundle of discoveries. The Doctor found that he didn't like the look Kes was casting him, nor the implications of her statement. "I tried others," he defended himself. "That was the best way to greet my fellow crewmembers! It's what I prefer, thank you very much."

"'Salutations' is what I prefer too," Penny said, seeming to have missed his earlier criticism. "It's such a fun, happy word, don't you think?"

"I don't — I'm not — " The Doctor cut himself off with a huff. From the corner of his eye he saw Kes snatch a vial off the nearby tray — Ensign Harver's medication — and give a jaunty wave and she trotted out the door. He'd raised his finger to point sternly at Penny, turned it on Kes, only to turn it back when she abandoned him. Rude.

"I am a doctor," he said, “not an entertainer. It is my job to fix any and all medical problems that may develop on this ship, not to have fun with wordplay. I'm not programmed for fun."

"...programmed?"

Dismissing the whispered word, the Doctor decided that the best course of action was to simply ignore the girl. She was clearly attached to the rest of the crew already, so if he ceased engaging with her she would become bored and leave him in peace. However, no sooner had he turned away then Penny had zipped in front of him, demonstrating that impressive speed again. One moment there were the pristinely white walls of his sickbay, the next a mass of red and green had assaulted his vision, not unlike an exuberant Christmas tree. The Doctor stumbled back with a squawk.

"You are programmed? You are like me!" she cried, snatching his hand. He was too stunned to immediately pull away and Penny took full advantage of his shock, poking and prodding at his palm with an intensity he might have otherwise admired. "You feel very human. Father said that I must not get too close to people. They might notice the metal I am made of, but your father has done a most excellent job! I would never have know that you are an android too."

The description of Doctor Zimmerman as his father made something hot coil in the pit of the Doctor's nonexistent stomach, the feeling undercut only by the strange sensation of Penny holding his hand. Yes, now that she'd mentioned it, he could feel the difference: she possessed a heavier, less pliable appendage than a human would. It wasn't unpleasant, just an intimacy he hadn't asked for, and the Doctor snatched his fingers back, settling on the easiest of her assumptions to correct.

He straightened his shirt, adopting a sardonic smile. "I am not an android, I am a hologram. I am produced using a magnetic containment field and I can modulate my own projection to interact with the matter around us, or pass through it, if I so choose. It is a very convincing imitation of life, dependent on the ship's computers and the projectors in this room. In short, my existence is a far less impressive display of technological advancement than yours, something I suspect Lieutenant Torres would greatly admire. Perhaps you should visit her and leave me in peace."

Penny didn't leave though, just continued to stare up at him, obscenely innocent. "Imitation?"

"Are you programmed to repeat whatever I say? Perhaps I should be clearer: please leave!"

"You are not an imitation."

Reports were a common occurrence on Voyager, of first contacts, missions gone wrong, the current status of the ship. The Doctor considered himself quite qualified to explain any and all situations he might experience and, due to his increased memory, was arguably in a better position to provide an objectively accurate account of events. It was rather a point of pride, in fact. Yet if the Captain had asked him to explain the change that had just taken place, he would have been at a loss. Penny was a kind and soft-spoken girl, outside of her exuberance, of course. Yet someone different stood before him now, hard-eyed and burning with passion. Quite literally. The Doctor felt her core temperature rising by several degrees, the space between them growing hot as her mechanics responded to whatever emotion was currently coursing through her circuits.

How interesting, in a rather intimidating way.

"I'm... not?" The Doctor suspected that any disagreement would be a mistake.

Penny furiously shook her head, curls whipping about her face. "You are not! And I find it very upsetting to hear you speak that way. I... I suppose Ruby must have been very upset too."

Ruby?

The Doctor didn't get the chance to ask. Penny grabbed his hand again, gripping it with a strength that made him better appreciate Lieutenant Paris' injuries.

"I used to think as you do, Doctor," she said, all green-eyed intensity. "That I was not a real girl because my father built me, because I could do more than a human girl could and, sometimes, less than as well, but I was wrong. And you..." Penny took a deep breath, her face lighting up with a smile. "You’ve got a heart and a soul. I can feel it. You think just because you're got a computer and projectors instead of nuts and bolts that makes you any less real than me?"

"I... no." And to his intense surprise, the Doctor found that he meant it. So what if he didn't have a physical stomach to experience anxiety in? Or if he could only exist in here and the holodeck? He thought, felt, could learn, make decisions... what else was life, really? Unconsciously, the Doctor squeezed Penny’s hand back. "You’re right. I’m not an imitation, but the real thing. Quite a stellar example of life too, if I do say so myself."

Penny squealed and flung her arms around him, pulling him into one of those deadly hugs. The Doctor winced, hesitantly reaching up to pat her back, but it appeared that this quick formality wouldn't appease her as it did Ensign Kim. With a sigh he rolled his eyes and resigned himself to the attention.

It wasn't horrible.

"I am so very glad that I have made a new friend today," Penny said, rocking him side-to-side.

"Oh. Are we friends now?"

"Yes!"

"Ah, well then, as a friend..." The Doctor cleared his throat, letting her take just a little more of his weight. "I don't suppose you have any advice on choosing a name?"

#rwby #star trek #ST #voyager #ST fic #RWBY fic #flawartist

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gabrieldrawsstuff · 4 years

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Aight fellas, I'm doing a list of canon descriptions of dw characters for future reference, might do a second part with more minor characters

SPOILER ALERT OBV

STRANGER

-THE JOURNAL : "Somehow I'm wearing a coat, so I must've changed my clothes on my way here. I don't recognize myself anymore. I can barely hold this pencil. Has my body changed?"

-DOCTOR : "I see you haven't regained your speech. You need to find another doctor."

-SNAIL : "Your face... What happened to you?

The snail's jaw falls so low, it almost detaches itself from the rest of the body.

You scared me... You barely resemble a human... You should cover yourself..."

SNAIL : "You're so ugly, I feel like puking... You barely resemble a human being..."

THE CRIPPLE : "You, lad. You've got your hands and legs. Strong arms. I beg you!"

MAMA ELEPHANT : "Can't you speak? Did someone take away your voice?"

MAMA ELEPHANT : "Your gob looks like that because of this fiendish air, do you know? I bet you can't speak, because you didn't keep your mouth shut when walking through the woods."

MAMA ELEPHANT : "(...) I know you want something, you leper demon."

MUSHROOM GRANNY : "(...) But you're young and strong."

CHICKEN LADY : "Whaddaya need, poor soul? Hungry, eh? I'd give ya some stew, but what good will it do?"

(I think in polish version it was closer to 'how will you eat it' although I can't be sure)

MIRROR : "You are one ugly bastard. I guess you got what you deserved."

MUSICIAN : "This is our doctor, yes? He is just as brave and good as you are!"

MUSICIAN : "You're not af-fraid of anything!"

WOLFMAN : "Even from afar I can smell your putrid stench. Be glad I don't have an appetite for carcasses, Meat"

WOLFMAN : (after the church dream sequence) "Meat, what's with the big eyes? Hehe... Scared?"

WOLFMAN : (when you nod to a question if you're making a joke of him) "You're a brave piece of meat... and what's more important, one with a sense of humor.

WOLFMAN : "Are you pretending to be human, or are you just cracking jokes?"

WOLFMAN : "You look tired, Meat. Busy night?"

WOLFMAN : "Have fun, Meat... Just remember to hide that disaster of a face or it's no dancing for you"

WOLFMAN : (when you spare the sow) "My heart sings with joy when I see such selfless kindness. Tell me the truth, Meat. It was you, wasn't it?"

vvvvv

TRADER

-A man, roughly my size, is standing before me.

I can barely make out his disturbingly familiar features through the matte visor of his helmet...

The massive helmet is covered with an old sack and seems to be an integral part of the unnaturally pale body.

-The man reaches out to me with his black hand. It's covered in charcoal... There's something written on his worn, woolen glove.

-Visibly struggling, the man drops the sack from his back and bends in half, as if out of breath. He shakes the dust off his clothes, then rolls up the sleeve of his, seemingly too small, jacket.

-The old sack covering his body slides down, revealing his chest, covered in horrid growths. It is fused with a porous helmet, pulsating to the rhythm of his breath.

vvvvv

WOLFMAN

THE JOURNAL: "If I'm not delusional, the man whom I met... had the head of a wolf."

FIRST ENCOUNTER: The figure hides its face under the hood. It smells of wet soil and fur.

WOLFMAN: "(...)I barely believe my beautiful eyes... (...) The Wolf smiles, revealing a row of sharp teeth.

AT BARN RUINS: The Wolf makes a quick leap and, bouncing against me with his swollen belly, he puts his paws on my shoulders. He ostentatiously licks his face. (...)

-I notice fresh bloodstains on his fur and feel streaks of his saliva dripping onto my coat.

-The Wolf takes two steps back. I can only see a row of filthy, sharp teeth underneath his hood.

-The Wolf squeezes my arms and starts licking my face. Once from the left side, once from the right side. (...) His breath stinks of rot.

WOLFMAN: "Thanks to you I feel fulfilled! I got my girl, my sweet little lady back."

-Suddenly the Wolf sends me back with a powerful push and reaches into his coat pocket.

WOLFMAN: "(...) and then nothing wil keep you from getting the fuck out of my part of the woods! Do you get me, Meat? You will pack your bags, dive into that stinking hole of yours and dissa-fucking-pear!"

-Finally he snorts, his thick, yellow spit landing on the photo.

-The Wolf grabs the box and starts sniffing it from every angle. I could swear I've heard his tail moving under his coat.

WOLFMAN: "And what am I supposed to do with it? Bite it until it opens? Your brain must be rotting if you think I will break my fangs for this shit."

WOLFMAN: "An electronic game, eh? About a wolf stealing chicken eggs... hehehe. Good one!I've a soft spot for games, how about you?"

-As I produce the key, the Wolf's pupils widen with excitement.

WOLFMAN: (about villagers) "Those selfish, deceitful wretches! They think they're superior, because they have human gobs. They treat us like lepers! But you know what? Fuck them. We're buddies, aren't we? And them? They deserve to be punished, Meat..."

-The Wolf pierces me with his look and grins. A string of saliva lands on his hole-riddled jacket.

-The Wolf puts his paw on me. I can feel his claws puncturing my skin.

WOLFMAN: (about piotrek) "Meat! Fucking hell, seen that? Hahaha! Seen that? Hahaha! Off he flew, didn't he? OFF HE FUCKED!!! Hahahaha!"

WOLFMAN: "If you wish to spend some more quality time basking in the striking, yet natural beauty of my features before you head off to the Silent Forest, you will find me in my camp in the Dry Meadow."

vvvvv

DOCTOR

THE JOURNAL: "What I do know is that the insane fucker took my key. My only chance to get out of the woods. He also tore out all the pages from my journal."

THE JOURNAL: "The doctor has escaped. So be it. He would only be a hindrance anyway."

CHICKEN LADY: "My sisters! Where did ya find it? It's all that godless quack's fault - devil brought him! All he did was prescribe this and that, scribble this no-good drivel! To hell with them papers!"

-I can feel the doctor's cold hand grab me by the jaw, (...)

-He removes his dirty glasses with a trembling hand and freezes.

DOCTOR: "First they begged for help, now I need to hide from them! I'm just an ordinary doctor! How the fuck was I supposed to help them?! How?!"

-With shaking hands, he reaches for the cigarrete butt between his yellow teeth.

DOCTOR: "I used to come here to treat people. I pulled out kids' milk teeth, delivered babies... (...) Last time I came here was three or four years ago. Then the trees blocked the path."

-The Doctor is visibly pleased with himself and his theory. His hands are no longer trembling. He produces a hand-rolled cigarette and lights it.

DOCTOR: "(...) I have no idea where it leads. I'm a shitty diver. (...)"

-The Doctor stares right into my eyes. Mud drips from his face. He hasn't blinked in over a minute.

- (...)His glasses are so dirty, I barely see the eyes hiding underneath.

-A chunk of mud falls down on his exposed tongue. He chews it slowly and swallows with satisfaction.

-The Doctor puts the muddy hand into his mouth, grimaces and pulls out a yellow tooth. He puts it into the pocket of his torn trousers. The tooth falls through a hole. He does not notice this...

-Slowly he bends down and grabs a thick branch from the ground. He starts biting the bark off of it. He swallows the bark with an effort, but also great satisfaction. He places the stick among other ones sticking out of his mud-covered head.

WOLFMAN: "Well, well. I know this quack. A nonentity, a third-rate witch doctor. Useless fucking clunker... But he still managed to screw you over with that key. Eh, comrade?"

MUSICIAN: "This is our doctor, yes? He is just as brave and good as you are! He helped me. He is helping all of us! He gave me this beautiful mask, so I could be healed of my afllictions. Maybe you could have one too..."

vvvvv

MUSICIAN

THE JOURNAL: "I met a boy in the village. He told me that the "Chicken Lady" keeps the "Pretty Lady" locked in her house. The boy really wants to see her, but the old woman won't allow it."

THE JOURNAL: "I decided to give the key to Chicken Lady's room to the little boy. He thanked me and asked me to bring him his mom's violin (it's hidden behind the wardrobe). He's afraid to go himself, as his parents are supposedly angry with him."

THE JOURNAL: "The boy sure was happy to see the new violin. (...)The kid also told me I should visit him in his parent's home someday."

CHICKEN LADY: (after musician's death) "Maybe it's just that me ears are getting worse, but it's been a while since I've heard that monster outside me windows..."

CHICKEN LADY: "Holy Mother, this creep again! May the devil take him and his blasted violin!"

MUSICIAN: "The Pretty Lady? S-she's... the most beautiful lady in the w-world! I w-watch her through the cracks in the window. S-she ch-changes when I watch her... g-gets more beautiful. I p-play for her... I want her to be h-happy..."

MUSICIAN: "I fished out the Pretty Lady's w-wreath from the river! (...)Oh yes, I will become the Pretty L-lady's husband! We w-will walk hand in hand, s-sir. I will play for her, mister s-sir."

-A skinny little hand emerges from beneath the tractor and grabs me by the ankle.

MUSICIAN: "They will not l-listen to me, they w-won't hear how sad I am, sir..."

-One of the strings securing his mask falls off, together with his ear. The boy reattaches it as if nothing happened.

MUSICIAN: "My m-mom has this beautiful violin! I would ask her to b-borrow it to me, but she's too angry with me... Could you p-please c-convince her to b-borrow it to me? I'll g-give you a card with drawings for her. To apologize."

-The boy turns the game in his hand for a while, but he can't find a way to reach the buttons with his overgrown fingers. The game slips out of his hand and drops to the ground. The wannabe musician freezes.

MUSICIAN: "(...) maybe you could take a wee piece of... m-meat for me? I've never eaten a pig and I've h-heard it's very tasty! W-would you take s-some for me?"

-The boy sniffles and rubs the mask with his deformed hand.

-From beneath the mask you can hear a horribly distorted, resounding voice... of a child?

-The figure tries to turn its head, but its enormous neck makes this task impossible to complete.

MUSICIAN: "P-please let me stay. P-please, don't chase me off. I've got nowhere to... go. The villagers don't a-a-allow me to live in the camp. I p-p-promise I won't p-play anymore! I'll be quiet. You can c-cover me with something, if you don't w-want to look at m-me..."

MUSICIAN: (after gifting you a rat) "(...) I mean, she jumped on my hand and s-started nibbling on my f-finger! I quickly clasped my h-hand and b-bit through its neck!"

-The corners of the boy's mouth turn up in a grotesque smile, exposing rows of overgrown teeth, which even his mask couldn't hide.

-The boy clumsily grabs the ball in his hand. He carefully hides it under his legs, so that it doesn't roll away.

MUSICIAN: "S-sorry! I didn't want to! T-this thing is coming out of m-my body. I... I tried to stop it, but I don't think I can... N-now the whole room is covered with... this. I didn't want to make a mess, I s-swear! Please, don't t-throw me a-away!"

-The boy leans over the violin lying next to his overgrown left hand. He plucks one of the strings with his right hand, clumsily trying to keep the rhythm.

MUSICIAN: "Recently, I've grown quite a bit. My mom always used to say that I need to be b-big and s-strong... to help her out in the field..."

The boy tries to hug his frail knees with the disproportionately massive torso.

"But I... I don't want to be big anymore. It's v-very hard being big. You need to be so... so strong! To even walk.Now my v-violin is... too s-small for me!"

vvvvv

#darkwood protagonist #darkwood wolfman #darkwood trader #darkwood stranger #darkwood #darkwood musician #darkwood doctor

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dumbthotastrology · 5 years

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a dumb thots guide to moon signs

omg i have been gone for so long uhhhh just flaky gemini things. anyways hey girlies so today were gonna talk about your moon signs. the specifics of what each moon sign has in store, and about moon signs in general.

about moon signs:

while a sun sign can be an overall idea of your personality and overall self, a moon sign is what rules your inner-self and your emotions. It creates your needs and wants, and makes the base for your subconscious and your soul. your moon sign can also describe how you respond to crisis basically your moon sign explains why y'all are so fucked up.

your moon sign also can tell who you’re compatible with emotionally. although compatibility is a mix of other planets and other non-astrological factors, your moon sign is a huge component of the way you think and process things, which is generally a huge part of compatibility and intellectual attraction. oooh, big words.

also, like what i said in my previous post “a dumb thots guide to the planets” some people relate to their moon sign waaaay more than their sun sign, probably because there are less stereotypes and stigmas around moon signs. if you’re naturally a very emotional, intuitive, or dark person you might feel more attracted to your moon sign because your feelings and emotions are a large part of your thought-process.

so children, let's get into each moon sign and what they mean

aries moon: we stan most aries, so we also stan aries moons. these folks tell it how it is and aren’t afraid to speak their mind. aries moons are bold and enthusiastic with their life choices. they’re optimistic, even through tough times. they know what they want all the time, but y'all aries moons don’t know the difference between needs and wants because of your intensity in regards to passion and desire. they can be moody and temperamental if they don’t get what they want or life is going rough for them. In life, it's hard to create a balance because they go through plenty of ups and downs constantly. they might feel destructive towards other people or even towards themselves. aries moons are naturally dominant, so let's all embrace our little baby lunar christian greys.

taurus moon: okay so let's talk about our babies with taurus moons. the main traits of a moon sign in taurus is that they crave stability, reliability, and comfort. people with taurus moons tend to stay away from sketchy or messy situations because they’re not super adaptable to change. they take pride in their emotional stability and use it as their driving force (and they usually take charge anyway.) those with moons in taurus can be stubborn and selfish at times, and can get stuck in routines although that's not the end of the world for them. if you have a sun or moon (or just have a lot of taurus in your chart) you can suffer from taurus-style depression at times, which makes the person very lazy, tired, and tend to overeat or do a lotttt of retail therapy. but on the brighter side, if you’re in a relationship with them, they are more committed, helllllaaa sensual (get itttt), loyal, and you won’t expect a break up for a longggg time

gemini moon: (geminis, i love you and i support you) those with moons in gemini are charming and witty, just like the gemini sun signs. they are social butterflies and like to organize or make plans frequently otherwise they’ll get fussy. they're great communicators and get along with a lot of people, but since gemini moons are such people pleasers, they might get too involved with the opinions and emotions of other people and tend to ignore their own feelings or purpose. deep shit. restlessness is common in lunar geminis because they always need to be stimulated with something (talking, reading, watching tv, etc.) also nervousness and moodiness can be a problem in these people, leading to frustration and being snappy. but overall, we love you geminis.

cancer moon: cancer moons are little babies, in a good way. they’re extremely sensitive, intuitive, and they feel so damn much. our cancer moon girlies make incredible friends and parents, however be a bit cautious around them. since they feel so much, they can be defensive, moody, or more upset than normal when they’re hurt or unhappy. if you hurt cancer moons, good luck bud. they tend to close off or shut down when hurt, and take a while to heal. along with this, they hold grudges for a long time, and tend to keep their guard up if they somehow forgive you. just don't be playin with their feelings… don't do it. To heal and regroup, cancer moons like to stick with what they know and what they’re comfortable with, and many can be homebodied. these people have a lively imagination and are extremely intuitive, leading to possible psychic abilities or intentions. these people also tend to be natural empaths, which can lead to feeling emotionally bogged down from other people depending on you, but being an empath is a good thing because it shows your loyalty and compassion. love u.

leo moon: leo moons are our fun friends that have been by our side for years. these girlies are self confident, creative, and has an inspiring and extroverted energy. leo moons know their se;f worth, and won’t put up with anything less. they can be dominant at times, but their motivation for this dominance is generally respect. their feelings are intense and they don’t mess around when it comes to their ambitions and desires. a downside of leo moons though, is that they are super extra. some can see you as over the top or loud, and at times this can make you feel misunderstood. you may seem to be an attention whore sometimes, but through your passion and loyalty those close to you know that your intentions are good. keep bein your extra ass selves, leo moons. we love you.

virgo moon: those with virgo moons can be a little tricky to understand, but there are definitely some pros, you guys aren't all fucked up. lunar virgos really stan their routine, which make them naturally self-disciplined so they don't fall out of that routine. they tend to like exercising, self care, and love to develop new hobbies. they also love to help others, and you'll find that lunar virgos are wholesome, loyal, and sensitive in the best way possible. their routine is a need for them, and if they don’t have it they can get high-strung and aggravated. they can also get finicky and specific about how things go in their lives, which isn’t always a bad thing. if lunar virgos suffer from trauma or rough-patches, they might try to bottle their emotions up which will manifest later on in life. similar to lunar scorpios, virgo moons might experience issues with digestion due to their emotional stresses. some have described that those with virgo moons might have eating disorders due to nervous system or psychological factors. these people might also have controlling fears or issues, so as i said these people can be a little fucked up but their gigantic hearts and self determination make up for it and help them get through it. (and aren't we all a little fucked up out here?)

libra moon: lunar libras (ugh doesn't that sound so pretty?) are just beautiful little babies. they have a natural artsy and peaceful personality that draws you into them. they’re amazing at communicating and socializing, and one of their main goals seem to be pleasing people in all aspects. libra moons are amazing partners, and they often search for a partner due to the fact that they strongly dislike being without a significant other. it makes them feel out of balance and lonely at times. they seem to steady themselves based on the way others depend on them and their relationships, but this can lead to distress if tensions exist within an important relationship in their lives. the dark side of lunar libras isn’t as scary as others think, but can become an issue if taken out of hand. they might become dependent on others and their significant other which can, in turn, hurt them in the long run from a loneliness or longing after a break in the path. ooh, poetic.

scorpio moon: scorpio moons dont fuck around. (i have a scorpio moon, so be scared bitch.) to be frank, scorpio moons are intense and emotional. they have a higher understanding of the human thought process and can be deeply connected to emotions and vibes. these people are affected not only by their own emotions, but from others emotions as well. they pick up on certain situations because of the energy radiating off of it, making them helllllaaaa intuitive. lunar scorpios are INTENSE when it comes to love, and might be afraid of committing if they’ve been hurt in the past. they have a strong emotional need for drama or frequent change, and if they dont express their feleings they could even get physically sick (ive personally experienced a lot of stomach issues and nausea.) scorpio moons are defensive when it comes to love (even if they crave it) because they have a fear of betrayal or being hurt. through all of these intense shit though, they’re ambitious, sensual (!!!), creative, and committed. we been knew.

sagittarius moon: sagittarius moons are our party people. they’re fun, sociable, and extroverted. they love meeting new people and doing new things, it makes them thrive. they like to go through life with an easygoing nature, and generally aren't super negative. sometimes they’re even overly optimistic, and get their hopes up way too much which in the end will crush them if something goes poorly. when life isn't in their favor or things don't go their way, they get tf out of the situation or try to physically escape. they want to feel balanced at all times. to other people (especially more home-bodied signs) see sag moons as intimidating or annoying, but sag moons are very easy to get along with and will get along with almost anybody. basically, lunar sags are that one friend that you can never stay mad at, and want to hang out with all the time. we really do stan.

capricorn moon: our capricorn moon are our little home bodied babies. we love you. the underlying theme of most lunar capricorns is that they’re steady and reliable, and like to keep themselves that way. they like to surround their lifestyle around goal-setting, and have soooo freakin much ambition and determination. at some points, capricorn moons might start getting a little too obsessed with their goals, like girlies please calm down every once in a while. they want to better themselves all the time, and that can lead to isolation or feelings of loneliness. lunar capricorns have emotions that are a bit more logical and darker than some, and that makes them a bit more emotionally closed off because they don't want to kill the vibe or share what's on their mind if its not important. they seem cold to others because they like to make themselves seem put together allllll the time. like seriously. overall, all these kittygirls want is to be in control and to have structure, and we’ll let you have it, since you mainly aren’t that problematic.

aquarius moon: so our little aquarius moons are kinda weird in nature, but SO bright and independent, which a lot of us admire. lunar aquarians care a lot about what others think, so they try to bury any negative emotions (like pettiness or jealousy) so they don't seem unattractive. because of this, they might seem closed off, but most times you’ll receive more of an emotional connection once you get to know them. they are very receptive to others emotions and frequencies, and ponder the meaning of life and the universe as they feed on deeper and darker emotions. often times, they emotionally detach themselves from others and tend to feel lonely. they’re natural loners, but on the bright side they don't let their loneliness get in the way of their overarching purpose (for the most part.) the odd thing is, they take in so much energy and emotion from other, and some may call that an empath, but to others they might seem like they lack compassion because they emotionally shut off. we love them anyways though, because lunar aquarians are amazing friends and give people lots of independence and space to be themselves, and they expect the same.

pisces moon: our lunar pisceans (google told me that term) are dreamy and imaginative girlies. they’re SO empathetic and love to connect with others, and that makes many people confide and take comfort in them. they might become so involved in others (they especially root for the underdog and those less fortunate) that they lose track of themselves. if people take advantage of pisces moons’ empathy, the pisces moon will learn quickly and bounce back. their huge and accepting heart makes them amazing partners and friends because they’ll cherish you. (and y'all BETTER cherish them too i swear to god.) the downside to lunar pisceans though, is that they involve themselves in others so much that they become overloaded with emotion that they might feel numb or become spaced out. a supppperrr common thing in a pisces moon is zoning out to give their brain a break. pisces moons need time to recharge and step back to breathe. hey, we get it. life can be stressful af sometimes, especially for someone who feels everything.

the next dumb thots guide will be a dumb thots guide to the elements of astrology. (hopefully it wont take five billion years) bettttttt

-vi (gemini sun, scorpio moon, gemini rising) posted 6/15/19

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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Oda Forces MBTI

Okay, so I am a secret MBTI fan, so I haven't found many done on Ikesen, so I decided to do my own.❤🌷

So for those who don't know Myers Briggs Type Indicator is a personality categorizer that splits humanity into 16 "freakishly accurate" groups. So I used https://www.16personalities.com as my info source! So without further ado...

Oda Nobunaga - ENTJ Commander

"Commanders are natural-born leaders. People with this personality type embody the gifts of charisma and confidence and project authority in a way that draws crowds together behind a common goal. However, Commanders are also characterized by an often ruthless level of rationality, using their drive, determination, and sharp minds to achieve whatever end they've set for themselves".

So, I can definitely see the very charismatic confident and freakishly intelligent Nobu fitting this perfectly. It's no secret that Nobu has a certain charm that draws people in to back his goals and ambitions. As for ruthless, there must be a reason Kennyo and Shingen see him as a ruthless tyrant yikes.

So, here are his ideal compatible matches:

INTP, ISTP, and INFP

Mitsuhide Akechi - ENTP Debater

"No one loves the process of mental sparring more than the Debater personality type, and it gives them a chance to exercise their effortlessly quick wit, broad accumulated knowledge base, and capacity for connecting disparate ideas to prove their points. Debaters are the ultimate devil's advocate, thriving on the process of shredding arguments and beliefs and letting the ribbons drift in the wind for all to see. They don't always do this because they are trying to achieve some deeper purpose or strategic goal, though. Sometimes it's for the simple reason that it's fun".

Hello sneaky kitsune! Did someone say using wit to tease people for fun! This is 100% Mitsu in my mind; he, after all, does gather info from the shadows and loves to tease everyone around him with his witty remarks. ENTP is the rule-breakers, they love making jokes and can size up situations super quickly

Ideal compatible matches INFJ, INTJ, and ENFP

Hideyoshi Toyotomi - ESFJ Consul

"Consuls are altruists, and they take responsibility to help and to do the right thing seriously. They base their moral compass on established traditions and laws, upholding authority and rules. Supportive and outgoing, Consuls can always be spotted at a party – they're the ones finding time to chat and laugh with everyone! Consuls truly enjoy hearing about their friends' relationships and activities, remembering little details and always standing ready to talk things out with warmth and sensitivity"

Mama-Yoshi sure loves to help and support everyone and anyone! He is the most social in the Oda forces, in my opinion- like he gets swarmed by a woman every time he goes shopping. As for upholding rules and authority, we all know poor old Nobu has to sneak around to get his candy fix when Mamahen is on patrol.

Ideal compatible matches ISFP, INFP, and ISTP

Masamune Date - ESFP Entertainer

"Entertainers get caught up in the excitement of the moment and want everyone else to feel that way, too. No other personality type is as generous with their time and energy as Entertainers when it comes to encouraging others, and no other personality type does it with such irresistible style. Wanting to experience everything there is to experience."

#Masa the hurricane. He spent the better half of his route encouraging mc to let go and have FUN! I mean, he drove off of a cliff for crying out loud, this boy is the embodiment of new experiences and playfulness. ESPF is reckless, daring and super energetic

Ideal compatible matches ISTJ, ISFJ and INTP

Ieyasu Tokugawa - ISFJ Defender

"Defenders have excellent analytical abilities; though reserved, they have well-developed people skills and robust social relationships, and though they are generally a conservative type, Defenders are often receptive to change and new ideas. They have a tendency to underplay their accomplishments and may never be truly comfortable in the spotlight, personality type is private and very sensitive, internalizing their feelings a great deal".

I found it most difficult to match Ieyasu, but I think this fits him best. He is a sensitive soul that secretly loves helping and healing everyone. He always underplays his acts of kindness by his contrary behaviour, but we see you Yasu, we see you. ISFJ need their alone time to recharge, and their Patronus (Hello harry potter fans) is a deer so if that ain't a clear cut sign I don't know what is

Ideal compatible matches ESTP, ESFP, and ESFJ

Mitsunari Ishida - INFP Mediator

"Mediators are affectionate, kind, creative, and idealistic. Rewarding them and those they love not with logic and utility, but with a world view that inspires compassion, kindness and beauty wherever they go. Mediators can lose themselves in their quest for good and neglect the day-to-day upkeep that life demands. Mediators often drift into deep thought, enjoying contemplating the hypothetical and the philosophical more than any other personality type. Left unchecked, Mediators may start to lose touch, withdrawing into "hermit mode," and it can take a great deal of energy from their friends or partner to bring them back to the real world."

Mitsunari is a bight ray of angelic sunshine. We all know this boy goes straight into hermit mode; basically, the second he picks up a book. He is creative kind, caring, and if it weren't for mama-yoshi hand feeding him like a lil baby bird, he would probs starve to death. INFP is known to be sweet lil cinnarolls, and whose heads are always in the clouds.

Ideal compatible matches ENFJ, or the ESTJ, ENTP

I highly recommend you take the test yourself if you haven't yet! Enjoy!❤

#mbti #mbti ikesen #ikemen sengoku mbti #mbti fanfic #personal #akechi mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku mitsunari #ikesen hideyoshi #oda nobunaga #Masamune Date #ieyasu tokugawa #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen mitsuhide #nobunaga oda fanfic #nobunaga oda #ikesen nobunaga

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sageblogsthings · 4 years

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(This is @magicalwriting main) Happy very late wbw! I wanted to ask how the magic system in Anora worked. Obviously you don’t need to lay down everything, but the powers/abilities that each protagonist has would be great! Thanks!

thanks for the ask, and no worries about it being late i will ramble about worldbuilding any day of the week! this ask really helped me develop my ideas as well so thank you! it got a bit long tho so no worries if you don’t read the whole thing i just wanted to get everything out of my head and in writing haha

when i first started building Arnora’s magic system, i asked myself what the magic system would be based on. i feel like a very common base in fantasy is the elements (earth, air, fire, water, etc) and while i love that system (and will likely use something similar for my Onyx & Opal wip) i wanted to try something different. so the foundation of the magic system in Arnora is time!

the way time works in Arnora is a bit different than the linear concept we have in our world. There are three Pillars of Existence: The Past, The Present, and The Future (these are rough human translations cuz i’m still coming up with Arnoran words for them lol). but these Pillars all support our understanding of Time at any given moment, so what we would just perceive as the present an Arnoran would perceive as a culmination of the past, present, and future in one instant. it’s kinda abstract and i’m definitely still trying to figure out how to explain it well haha

in terms of magic, this means that all forms of magic ultimately stem from time magic. for example, necromancy is a form of magic that manifests The Past, and brings that manifestation into the Pillar of The Present. so whenever someone uses magic they are drawing on one of the pillars of existence, and this pillar could kind of be seen as their patron deity in a sense.

also, not everyone in Arnora practices magic but everyone has a connection to it since the magic system is based on time and the very fabric of reality. there are those who reject this system and try to perform magic outside of time itself, and these people are called nihilimancers. there are not a lot of professions that are frowned upon in Arnora but nihilimancy is regarded as the closest thing to evil magic there is. necromancy and blood magic are not considered bad in Arnora because their conceptualization of the soul and death is very different from ours.

i’m still working out all of the characters’ powers and abilities and these might change but here’s what i have so far. in parenthesis i put which pillar is associated with each skill line! i’m gonna put a ‘keep reading’ here too so people on mobile don’t hate me lol

Vanna: green and white magic (Future)

this includes healing/cleansing spells and nature-based spells. these are under the Pillar of the Future because performing these spells requires the caster to be able to envision what could be, and bring purity to an area darkened by the Past.

Xalia: conjuration and destruction magic (Past)

if you’ve read Xalia’s chapter you might remember the part where she turns her daggers into wings: this is a form of conjuration magic. she can also cast destruction spells manifest in a lot of ways but her favorite is purple flames! this falls under the Pillar of the Past because it requires envisioning something you’ve seen or experienced before and bringing that thing to pass.

Silaesan: he’s weird since he’s a Time Magister so he is literally the embodiment of all three pillars

the main job of Time Magisters is to envision all of the Pillars and make sure that they do not collapse and disrupt the Timeline. this involves a lot of skills from each Pillar. divination would be a skill under the Future but reading the stars would be under the Past, and interpreting the current state of the timeline would fall under the Present.

Tilaraen: destruction magic (Past) they have some other really cool magic stuff goin on buuut it would be a massive spoiler if i told u so just wait n see lol

i can’t really say much about Tilaraen without giving major plot spoilers but just know that i’m super excited to write about their backstory more! their chapters will be a really good way to understand the structure of the magic system and how it could go wrong . . . and that’s all imma say bout that

Dorian: illusions and enchantments (Present)

Dorian is nothing if not a pickpocket and a thief, and his magic reflects this. he often uses illusions to pull off heists, and uses enchantments to give him a somewhat unfair advantage in combat. he is also very skilled with poison making! this is a manifestation of the Present because illusion requires manipulating what the viewer currently perceives, and enchantments involve imbuing temporary power into an object during a moment of need.

Mikah: evocation and abjuration (Past)

Mikah is my sweet cinnamon roll baby and i just want to protect him so ofc he gets these skill lines lol. evocation is more about doing damage in combat, whereas abjuration focuses on blocking and banishing. this falls under the Past because it involves learning from your mistakes in life and in combat to become stronger in the future.

Ari: artificer/transmutation (Future)

if you’ve read Ari’s chapter you will also see his magic skills in action! he is an artificer, which falls under the school of transmutation. this is similar to illusion in that it changes the appearance of things but with transmutation you are changing the appearance and actual nature of something. this falls under the Future because you must envision what you want that thing to become to successfully perform a transmutation spell.

Verena: necromancy and blood magic (Past)

like i said before, these forms of magic are not frowned upon in Arnora. because they fall under the pillar of the Past, they are more viewed as a form of learning from history. if someone has an issue with necromancy it is not so much with the practice itself but usually the implementation of it. i can’t say too much more on Verena’s magic without giving spoilers but security, safety, and power are incredibly important to her, and she felt that necromancy and blood magic were best able to give her that.

whew that was long! bless you if you read all of that haha. this is the first time i’ve actually written all that down, it was kinda just floating in my head before, so thank you for the ask and giving me the chance to get all of that onto the page! :)

also fun tidbit but now that i’ve explained the pillars a little hopefully the name of Tov’s tavern (The Crooked Pillar) makes a bit more sense!

#kit answers #arnora #ask #magicalwriting #wbw #magic system #magic #writeblr #worldbuilding #world building wednesday

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migstheruler · 4 years

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PLaystation 5 Event

initially great, despite the horrible pre-orders ordeal.

On Sept. 16, 2020, Sony pulled back the curtain on another slew of details regarding the PS5.

1. The PlayStation 5 releases on November 12th, 2020 in Japan, Mexico, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea, and the United States (why these states, only Sony knows even though I think it’s because of their distinct market in each of these countries).

2. The PlayStation 5 releases everywhere else on November 19, 2020.

3. The PlayStation 5 launches at $399.99 for the digital edition and $499.99 for the disc-based edition.

*IF backward compatibility with the PS4 is important to you, I’d recommend the disc-based PS5. Sony execs have confirmed 99% of PS4 games are compatible with their new Flagship console.

The event also gave us a look into some new games coming to the PS5 for launch as well as games we can expect during the first year of the PlayStation 5’s life cycle. Honestly tho, I think some of those games indicating they were launching during 2021 is a lie. You mean to tell me you’re going to launch Horizon, God of War 2, Final Fantasy 16 all in one year…..really… If these games were dique going to launch in 2021, you would think they would have had at least a working demo or something, instead of a teaser trailer with the games logo…but I digress, I’ll touch on this later.

Below are a few games showed that caught my eye and I just had to write about them.

Overall, Sony’s PS5 presentation was a good one, with all the information we as consumers were asking for since June and 10/10 would watch again (I’ve seen the presentation 4 times already (twice to write this piece 😊)).

The presentations started with a trailer showing a slew of different games coming to the PlayStation five system, most games we covered in https://migstheruler.com/post/620830163010240512/ps5-reveal-event but just when you thought this was another trailer, boom!!!

Final Fantasy 16

A nice mix of old and new: as if the folks from Final Fantasy 11 and 12 made a 15 esque type game.

Shiva the ice goddess is back, and looking deadlier than ever throwing out chilly ice crystals sure to cause anyone level seven frostbite

Who´s a good boy? This little pup looks ready to be pet and given treats.

It looks like our trusty steeds the Chocobos are back, hopefully, they are more useful this time around )I’m looking at you final fantasy seven episode one)

Marlboros are looking as menacing as ever.

Final Fantasy 16 was pretty unexpected to be honest, especially given final fantasy seven episodes one releasing a few months ago. However, it’s a nice surprise to see Square Soft jk Square Enix working on a new Final Fantasy game, especially one that likes to expand upon the action RPG elements (Think kingdom hearts series or final fantasy 15 and even 7). Aesthetically, this is giving me hardcore fantasy elements with realism thrown in there.

Either way, what a great way to start off the presentation.

Spiderman Miles Morales:

Next up, Sony gives us a seven-minute look into Spiderman Miles Morales, which expands upon 2018’s PS4 Spiderman. Sony has said this is not a direct sequel but instead a look to further expand upon the world through the eyes of Miles Morales. The graphics and presentation of this game are sure to entice any spiderman man. The lighting coupled with Mile’s powers makes this game a visual PS5 treat.

Last time we saw Miles, he had just shown Peter Parker he too had powers to which Peter Parker joined him upon the ceiling, it was a bonding moment the two spider-men would have. Fast forward maybe a year (I’m not sure how much time has passed since the last spiderman game) we are thrusted into the shoes of Miles Morales.

“Mom I’m home” Can we take a moment to appreciate my man’s line up here, dam that shit looks crispy.

Walking through Harlem, music playing, and folks dancing Salsa in the street. I’m not going to lie, this made me cheese from ear to ear.

This is what I expect to encounter when I have to mediate between clients ready to rip each other apart in a gory fashion (above).

Okay, knowing how strong spiderman is, I fully expect the dude’s Jaw to be broken after this power punch.

I forgot to mention (above) Miles can turn Invisible and has access to electric powers (below) sure to spruce up and affect the way Miles plays. I can only imagine a focus less on gadgets and more of an emphasis on Miles’ powers.

Although I know this game stars a new spiderman aka Miles Morales, the developers sure are making sure we know we’re not playing with Peter Parker anymore.

“Insert obligatory spiderman being pulled from different directions trope here” I’m not even going to front; this image is pretty cool.

Lastly, how dope is this launch title? It is one of the first games I plan to beat on my PS5.

- I do want to say one thing regarding this title. I think it’s pretty great from a representation perspective to see a Black and Puerto Rican spiderman. Representation matters. I’m not Puerto Rican but am Latino and I do appreciate the flags littered throughout the trailer, folks dancing salsa and overall, Miles Morales as a character.

One gripe I have with this game unfortunately is Sony’s anti-consumer stance regarding those that purchased 2018’s Spiderman. Folks that purchase the Deluxe Spiderman Miles Morales edition for $79.99 get both Spiderman Miles Morales and a supped-up version of 2018’s spiderman for the PS5, yet Sony hasn’t extended an olive branch to those of us that supported their 2018 game (even making it one of their best sellers). IF you want to play Spiderman Miles Morales, you can cop it for a cool $49.99 which is dope but doesn’t include any type of upgrade for those of us with the PS4 version of spiderman. Honestly, as someone that doesn’t plan on playing the game again but it’s pretty anti-consumer to not even offer some type of benefit to those PS4 supporters. Here’s to hoping they offer some type of upgrade via a patch to the PS4 spiderman.

· Turns out the game will run natively better on the PS5 given the consoles superior power but for a truly next gen 2018 Spiderman experience, you gotta pay those $69.99 duckats.

Looks Like we’re going back to Hogwarts and I’m not talking about Fantastic Beasts or Harry Potter. We received our first look (aside from the leak that was released last year). In Hogwarts Legacy, we go back to the late 1800s to visit the Wizards of the Waverly place (I think I said this right, I’ve only seen the Harry Potter movies once all the way through). Either way, it looks like they managed to capture the magic of Hogwatz. The walls of Hogwarts look alive, books flying all over the place and magic spewing from cauldrons of unknown potions.

Our journey begins going back to Hogwarts with a cool looking Owl to boot.

The sorting hat is back babi, it seems like this is a create your own character adventure, where we as the player will get to customize our very own character, sure to get into whatever wizardly fun is to be found. Team Slytherin all day!! JK, I’m team Gryffindor babi. But really tho, I have no idea what school I’d be assigned too.

In both of these pictures, its quite remarkable the little details you see; the more you look, the more you see. Did you see the candles above, or the candlelight below

Looks like our boys are cooking up work in the kitchen aka cauldron. I’d also like to bring attention to the lighting, truly impressive. Time to eat some delicious grub with my fellow wizards!! (Below)

Looks like we’ll be facing a litany of different monsters and foes. I know with my Avada Kedavra, I’ll be blasting fools like the one below away.

Dam son, we fighting Dragons out here too, sheesh.

Looks like combat will be a big portion of gameplay as the video showed of a created character fighting some pretty large beasts.

Looks like we’ll be playing quidditch in this game, and I honestly can’t wait.

I sure do hope we’re able to feed these little cuties and pet them.

Looks like this game is open world, as the characters are seen flying on Griffins across the vista. They draw distances in this game are spectacular.

Hogwarts Legacy launches in 2021.

*JK Rowling has no involvement with this game and that’s a good thing given her recent problematic statements.

Demon Souls

Full disclosure, I bought demon souls for the PS3 back in the day but unfortunately, did not stick with the game. It was fun and I would proceed to play other From Software and souls genre games in the future such as Sekiro, Bloodborne and Nioh to name a few. But here we have Bluepoint games remaking the PS3 Cult Classic and precursor to the Souls Genre. I for one am super excited to jump back in and try my hand again at Demon Souls.

This place here is the game’s main hub that allows you to access other portions of the world map. IT’s nice to see it in all it’s HD Glory.

Our Player is borne anew: Rise from your grave!!! JK, this isn’t a Sega title.

The environments look super luscious and literal indistinguishable from concept art. The leaves, lighting, and armor are truly a beautiful sight to see. (Below)

Nothing like chilling by a bonfire, although if you’re new to the genre, every time you heal at these bon fires, all the enemies you spent tirelessly fighting repopulate.

Call me crazy but in the original, players from other games could leave each other messages written in blood, as a way to help each other out. It looks like this concept is making a comeback this time around.

Dragons are so hot right now…. (insert Zoolander Gif here)

If you have ever played a souls game, you know this is something you can expect to see even in your dreams. I remember going to bed thinking how an enemy boss had beaten me 13-times in a row, only to go to bed thinking and imaging different strategies on how I could kill the foe standing between me and the game's progress.

The gameplay looks faster than the original but the difficult elements remain prevalent. The player is seen mowing down enemies which seems a bit off given the extreme difficulty of the PS3 game. But this could be Bluepoint addressing the sometimes-outrageous difficulty by making it more appealing to casuals.

Launch Title!!!!

God of War Ragnarök:

Last time we saw our heroes, Kratos and Atreus were shacked up in their home when they receive a visit from a mysterious visitor brandishing what looks like Mjolnir on his waist. The game ended in a great cliff hanger and is sure to improve on the many aspects the PS4 game

Get the fuck out of here. Sony decided to drop a nuclear ton warhead on us with the teaser trailer of God of War Ragnarok, a sequel to the PS4’s God of War. Although they did not show any game play, they did manage to build the hype with the screen below:

And then to top off the trailer the list the following with a supposed 2021 release date which I think is highly unlikely but, we will see. Either way, “we must prepare”.

Sadly, when the presentation ended, pre-orders went live . We were told by Sony that we would have ample time to prepare to pre-order, nothing but the contrary occured. I was one of the unlucky folks who failed to obtain his PS5 preorder despite having the funds to do so. Here’s to hoping I’m able to secure a pre-order prior to the Nov 12 launch. I did manage to get a PS5 camera which is a must for me since I like to stream games online, it’s really quite addicting. Check out my channel at: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCiazQqSufhmIGo2a7odLOpQ?view_as=subscriber.

I do want to say one thing, I am very fortunate to have the things i’ve accumulated over the years. I know there are people in the world that lack even basic necessities. If you’re reading this, please donate to cause/fund or organization you beleive in. I know my life’s work is to improve the living conditions of everyone regardless of their creed and that keeps me plenty busy.

All images used in this piece were obtained from the source below:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iG0G44G6RI8

Credit: IGN

#ps5 #ps5 release #ps5 reveal #demonsouls #god of war ragnarok #spiderman mile morales #hogwarts legacy #final fantasy 16 #final fantasy xvi

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kilyra · 5 years

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Who Are You? (Part 1)

Klaus and Ben Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy) One-Shot **Parts 1-4 ARE AVAILABLE from the masterlist in my bio**

A/N: So, @pegxcarter developed her own OC with some ideas of a story for her, and has graciously let me play with this arc. I’m so, SO happy she approached me. It’s just too fun!

You are one of the other miracle babies and your gift is to heal which led you to a career as a paramedic. Everything went smoothly until you responded to a call for Klaus who was ODing and in rough shape.

Warnings: None. Spoiler-free and a minor swear word.

If you want to be on my tag lists, (all or just a character) just let me know!

Snapping your gloves on, you knelt beside the young man lying on the cold sidewalk. His breathing was shallow and his dark curls were pasted against his sweaty head. “Sir? Sir, my name is Y/n and I'm here to help you.”

He didn't respond and you weren't expecting him to. A small crowd had formed but the officer that first responded to the call already had everyone edged back. Looking up, you nodded at him. “Do we know what happened here?”

Not waiting for a reply, you slid your hands around the back of the man's head, carefully feeling his scalp and checking your hands for blood. Nothing. You continued your initial check down his body.

“No, the caller didn't see anything, but he's apparently around here regularly – usually strung out. She says his name is Klaus.”

His nose appeared to be broken and blood was splattered along his upper lip. Lance, your partner, frowned. "Well, it looks like he got his clock cleaned tonight too."

Prying his eyelids open, you shone your penlight into his eyes. His dilated pupils showed minimal response. Shifting up on one knee, you looked between the officer and your partner. “Looks like OD or possible brain damage. Or both. His vitals are weak, we need to get him to the hospital. We good to take him?”

After giving you the go-ahead, it was mere moments before he was strapped to the stretcher and being loaded into the back of the ambulance. As Lance slid behind the wheel, you braced yourself and continued to monitor Klaus.

He seemed slightly more responsive as his eyes started moving under his lids. Softly groaning between uneven breaths, an aura of pain seemed to settle around him. It tugged at you.

Glancing up, you made sure Lance was focused on driving after sorting out with dispatch which hospital to head to. Since they directed him to one across the city, it was going to be a long ride.

Staring down at Klaus as you checked his pulse again, the tugging at your heart grew more insistent. There was so much hurt and something you couldn't quite put your finger on. He seemed small somehow under the oxygen mask. Feeling the growing pull of your patient, you knew you were going to help him. Really help him.

You didn't do it often because you didn't want to draw too much attention, so if a patient was stable, you held back. But, in truth, you liked it. You liked helping people and getting them back on their feet as soon as you could. Only your version of soon was immediate.

It was a guarded secret in your family that, the morning of the day you were born, your mother wasn't pregnant. You were one of the 43 children born in October of 1989 and at a young age you discovered you could lay your hands on people and pull their injuries from them. It caused you to feel a phantom version of their pain as you healed them, but it passed. In your heart, you knew sharing their injuries was a small price to stop someone's suffering. Although you couldn't stave off death, you could mend broken limbs, close wounds and reverse other various damage to the body. It was definitely a perk for this profession.

Clearing your mind, you let out a long exhale as you gave your hands a quick shake. Taking another steadying breath, you set one hand on Klaus' cheek and the other on the bare skin of his hand. Focusing all your strength on him, you let your energy reach inside and pull his pain as you braced yourself. You were sure he at least had a concussion so this wasn't going to feel great.

A blinding white light of pain exploded as you felt the bridge of your nose crunch. Something was very wrong.

Grunting, you let go and stumbled before a floating feeling lifted you away. You were flying...but were you still in the ambulance? Everything seemed to loosen its grip as it melted away and you drifted.

What's an ambulance? Why did that matter when you just wanted to keep floating?

But you couldn't keep floating. You became aware of a sensation, something was radiating from your face, a warmth. No...no, it was cold. Didn't you hurt your nose? But the cold was above that, from your forehead.

And then the screaming started. But not yours.

People were all around you, insistently shrieking and yelling as they closed in. They blinked in and out, moving between transparency and solid forms, but all shouting at you. Squeezing your eyes closed did nothing to shut them out and your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might seize up. It was deafening...and horrifying.

Slowly, you realized they were all screaming the same thing. Klaus.

“Klaus, Klaus! Breathe. You're in the worst of it now...just try and stay calm.” A kind voice cut through the chaos, freeing you.

Struggling, you fought to open your eyes as the screaming faded. Sinking back into yourself, everything came into sharp focus as you gasped for air.

You were still hanging onto the side of the stretcher with your forehead pressed against its cold framework. Clumsily, you pulled your feet back under you, but everything was so hard. Your limbs were slow to respond. Were you high?

A muffled voice drew your attention. Following the sound, you looked up and saw Klaus staring down at you, wide-eyed. He glanced at the oxygen mask before he slipped his hand from under the strap and pulled the mask off to hang around his neck. “Are you okay?”

As he spoke, he reached for your arm. Watching his hand come closer, panic shot through you.

Throwing yourself back, you crashed against the side of the ambulance, sending supplies tumbling to the floor. “Don't touch me!”

Clutching his hand to his chest, Klaus froze as the ambulance swerved.

“What's going on? You okay, Y/n??” Alarm overtook Lance's tone.

Swallowing heavily, you fought to find your voice. “Y-yeah. W....we're all good back here, just keep driving.”

“You...you did your thing didn't you? But wasn't he stable?” His voice was softer.

“Just...just keep driving,” you said as you carefully used a small shelf to pull yourself to your feet. Everything was trembling so hard you didn't trust yourself to stand without help.

Turning his attention away from you, Klaus hissed. “What's going on? Why am I here?”

“You don't remember?”

Looking towards the new voice, you saw a young man with neatly kept hair, casually lounging at the end of the stretcher.

“I...I mean, do I really need to remember every little thing?” Cocking his head, Klaus scoffed.

“You got knocked out for being an asshole, that's what happened. And you were out so cold they had to call you an ambulance because they thought you might die.” The stranger sounded unimpressed as he tilted his head, mirroring Klaus.

“But why am I sober? I paid a lot of money to not be sober. And what was with...” He let his words dangle as he jerked his head your direction.

“That, I don't know. She just touched you and-”

“Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?” As you cut him off, his eyebrows slowly rose. In almost perfect unison, he and Klaus turned their stunned gazes onto you.

You felt weak, but you forced your confidence. “You can't be in here.”

Leaning forward, he narrowed his soft, brown eyes. “You can...see me?”

Fighting through the receding waves of fog, you realized your face was still throbbing with a dull pain. Reaching up, you pressed against your nose and found it was intact and fine. But as you rubbed your hand under your nostril you saw smeared blood on your fingers. "Yeah..."

“Wait, wait, wait. You can see him? Ben. That guy right there??” Klaus pressed the question, pointing to the stranger.

“The guy I didn't let in here? Of course I can...I...what's going on?” You rubbed the blood between your fingers and thumb. You've never bled from pulling an injury before. And you've never...whatever the hell happened, you'd never been through that before.

“I have no idea. No one else has been able to see me before.” Ben replied with a mix of confusion and excitement as you were looking down.

That voice...it was the same one that pushed all the screams away.

Snapping your gaze back up to him, something felt off. Looked off. Blinking rapidly, you tried to bring your eyes back into focus on Ben but it was like you were looking at him through a dirty window. And then he was gone.

“Where did he go?”

Turning to where you were facing, Klaus muttered under his breath before he shook his head and shrugged. You only caught the last few words. “No...I guess not..alright, alright, I'll ask.”

You rubbed your knuckles into your eyes as though that would somehow help. But it didn't.

“So...you don't see him anymore? But you did see him...right?” Klaus waved his arm, pointing between you and where Ben had been sitting,

Letting out a shuddering breath, you slowly had to force yourself to look back over at your patient still strapped to the stretcher. His eyebrows were pulled together as he openly stared at you, waiting for your reply.

“Who the hell are you?”

Klaus' eyes grew wide as his head bobbed back from your question. His dark-rimmed eyes closed to a hesitant squint as a grin grew. "Klaus, obviously. Better question is...who are you?”

**Parts 1 - 4 are available in the masterlist in my bio**

Taglist: @foreverfaeries @flower-two @getlostinyourparadise @w0nder-marie

This is the Diego list but I may do other TUA stuff, so please let me know if you JUST Diego from here on out so I don’t spam you. Thanks!! @actiongirl2005 @soul-of-a-traveller @blathena

#klaus hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #who are you

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fairiesherefairiesthere · 5 years

Text

Fraxus fake Boyfriend AU part 1/?

So it’s Fraxus day, but this isn’t finished yet so I decided to split it up. Here’s part one folks! (it’s a modern au)

"No Freed, you can't hack your father's bank account. The feds will get you and then I will be tragically best friend-less."

"No, you don't get it", Freed says and on the grainy computer screen, Laxus can see him shake his head. "If I go to jail, it'll probably be in Crocus, which means you can actually visit me instead of videocalling me at stupid o'clock in the morning. Also orange is an excellent colour on me."

A quick glance at the lower corner of his screen and a bit of mental math tells Laxus that it's indeed way too early in the morning for Freed to even consider to talk to him. "Justine it's three in the morning there, why are you even awake?"

Although it's hard to tell with the awful videoquality, Laxus thinks he can see the other man pout. "Talking to my bestie, duh", Freed replies and bashes his eyelashes obnoxiously, drawing a huff of laughter out of Laxus. "What are you, a fifteen year old schoolgirl? The lack of sleep is clearly getting to your head."

Smoothly ignoring Laxus' criticism of his horrendous sleeping habits, Freed continues the earlier topic. "Speaking of besties, made any friends yet?" Groaning, Laxus rolls his eyes. "My roommate is an actual nutjob and I don't know why I'm fond of him. He introduced me to his absolute bitch of a friend and I think I like her even more", he confesses and the pixelated image of Freed gives him a smug smirk. "It's because you like to be bullied, Laxus dearest. You won't say it, so I'll say it for you : bottom rights baby."

"I hate you and if you were here I'd smack you", he half-heartedly threatens and Freed replies "Kinky" without missing a beat. While the two of them are engaged in a staring match without actually being able to make out each other's eyes in the blur of colours on the screen, Bickslow throws open Laxus' bedroom door and yells: "Time to hide your porn blondie, it's time for reallife interaction with actual human beings!"

On instinct, Laxus does click away and as soon as the connection with Freed breaks he sees it fit to pout like a child. Their schedules matching (or one of them not sleeping for a day) and their wifi allowing them to see each other is a ridiculously difficult situation to stumble upon and now he's wasted his chance. Bickslow looks at least apologetic. Laxus was going to forgive him, until he opened his godforsaken mouth. "Dang man, the porn that good?"

"I hate you too", he says without clarifying to Bickslow who the other despised person is. He doesn't seem to mind as he plucks Laxus' computer from his bed, plops it down the nearby desk and sits himself down right in front of Laxus, legs in lotus position and bouncing with way too much energy. "I had a great idea", he announces and Laxus immediately doubts him.

"You see Ever and I, we thought you were a bit lonely and it might heal your soul to... Nah, scratch all of that, Ever and I were really fucking bored and we thought : Hey, let's set our absolute bestie up on a date! So here we are. Get dressed, you're going on a date."

"I can't", he says and desperately tries to come up with a reason. Uni work won't fool them, because they know that he's actually a good student, other activities won't work either because he's a social recluse and not even Makarov can save him because for some reason, the little shits he calls friends are all buddy-buddy with his grandpa.

"My boyfriend would hate it", he continues, cheeks colouring. It's because of the lying, not because he can only come up with one boyfriend-candidate in his mind. The statement is bland and straight to the point, which makes his words sound all the more true. Of course, Bickslow doesn't even buy a little bit of it. "Prove it", he demands.

While mentally apologising to Freed, Laxus digs up his contact information and futily tries to call him. After the third time trying, Bickslow looks even less convinced, which is an impressive feat considering he didn't believe Laxus from the beginning. Sighing, he goes to their chat instead and unlike their usual nonsense, he finds a sweet (?) message from Freed.

Damn, the wifi is really fucking with us huh? Wish we could talk more and I wish I could see your pretty face instead of a black screen and some smudges of colour here. X from the most beautiful man you know."

'Conceited brat', he thinks fondly and replies: Cymbeline (Act 3, Scene 4) Line 35-39, but replace 'slander' with 'you bitch'. They've adopted this weird system where Freed uses slang and Laxus literary references, just to meet each other's vibes somewhat. Sometimes it works, most of the times it really doesn't, but at least it's fun.

"Bro have you forgotten about my entire existence already? Stop smiling at your phone and admit that you don't have a mans!" Wordlessly, Laxus passes his phone to Bickslow who gasps. "Book quotes? Shit man, you're in deep. I'm gonna tell Ever." Without a warning, Bickslow disappears through the window, probably giving Evergreen her twentieth heart attack of this month by landing on her balcony. If the school thought a floor would seperate girls and boys, then they clearly hadn't met Bickslow.

Too late Laxus realises that Bicks has taken his phone with him and hopes his friends somewhat value his privacy and don't scroll too far up. There are the occassional way too deep talks around midnight but also a one time onceler x barry b benson bdsm roleplay (Freed had needed help with a creative writing assignment and Laxus had contributed a whole lot of nothing).

Barely five minutes later, Evergreen marches right into his bedroom, heels clicking snappily on his floor. "What", she spits and waves with his phone, "is this?"

"My cellphone."

Unperturbed, she continues her dramatic rant. "You have a boyfriend and you don't bother telling us?" Her tone turns sly and she elegantly flops down on his bed, rearranging her body to give herself a 'stern posture'. She looks like an irod rod trying to do yoga. "Or are you just making things up? Feel free to prove me wrong by showing us what he looks like."

"Why would I bring my photoalbums to uni?" he asks dumbfounded and Ever looks at him as though he just came down from Mars. "Laxus, honey, snapchat is a thing? Email if you're oldfashioned? Where are your boyfriend's nudes?"

"You're in a relationship."

"With a great guy who loves and trusts me and knows I ain't gonna cheat on him. Show me the dickpicks." Annoyed, he gives her a little shove. "I don't have any, I'm used to him being around. He's on another continent now and I just recently realised that all my memorabilias are at home."

"Convenient", Ever remarks dryly and Laxus sighs deeply and stretches out his hand. After she dumped his phone in it, he sends Freed a message ('Bro send me a pic of u ppl wanna know u exist') and shows it to both of his friends. "There."

Surprisingly fast, he gets a message back. 'No. The paparazzi and the FBI agent assigned to me will have to try harder than that to get a hold of ME (why is this man so ridiculous).' He shows it to Ever and Bicks and the former uses this opportunity to snatch his phone, typing a response before Laxus can properly register what's happening. "Hi I'm Laxus friend and I don't believe you're his boyfriend. Send a thirst trap to prove you exist. Or nudes", she reads aloud. Bickslow guffaws at that and Laxus sighs, resigning himself to face the consequences of his actions. What he does not expect however, is for Freed to send a picture back.

It's an awful photo of high school-aged Freed, complete with braces and a very unnatural smile. He's gangly, thin and looks like the walking embodiment of an awkward teen. 'This is a nude, as my soul has never been as bare as in this one picture', the caption reads and Ever laughs. "You know what, he passes the test." She purses her lips. "For now at least, I'm going to need more concrete evidence of this being an existing human being, because everyone can pluck a photo from the internet. Anyway, you're way too late for your date, so you get off easy Laxus."

After brushing nonexistent dirt from her skirt she opens her arms for Bickslow. "Take me home, spiderman", she orders and he gives her a salute. "Roger madame!" he yells before plucking Ever from the floor and leaping over the balcony railing. Their trust in each other is remarkable, but Laxus does think they're weirdos.

The very next day, Ever once again bursts through his door and Laxus mentally curses because he hasn't had the chance to discuss this whole thing with Freed yet. "Laxus", she says, voice dead-serious. "Evergreen.", he greets back as she half-crawls under the covers of his bed. "It's fucking cold", she clarifies before opening her laptop. That seemingly insignificant action makes Laxus weary, as Ever is holding her rickety laptop that's for illegal purposes only.

"I reverse searched that pic of your boyfriend and before I tell you the results, I'd like to know how exactly you met him."

He recognises her nosiness for what it really is (worry) and with a sigh, he gives her the sparknotes version of their history.

"We lived in the same town and we became friends because both of our fathers were absolute shit. They were friends so we became friends. At age thirteen he moved to Alakitasia and we reconnected because we matched on that stupid tinder profile you guys made me."

"Are you sure you weren't catfished?"

"Yup, because we skype regularly."

"Okay. Then certainly you're aware that he's a billionaire? Like, the heir to Justine Industries, the biggest technologie giant at the moment?"

He tries to see the whole situation from her perspective and has to admit that 'I have a boyfriend overseas, who's also a billionaire', sounds a bit too over the top to be true. "Yep, his pa's job is the reason he moved. I know this whole situation sounds like a huge lie to stop you guys' antics (probably because it is), but I swear it's true (it really isn't)."

"Okay then", she mumbles before putting her feet into Laxus' lap. The audicity of this woman, he thinks as he does absolutely nothing to move her. "I'm sorry for the whole 'setting you up' thing, it was rude of us. We just wanted you to have someone, you know? Because you deserve it and we can also see that you kind of want it and we wanted to help. We were too overzealous."

Ah, what a festive feeling brews in his chest. Nothing like a bucket of guilt to get your morning refreshment. The worst part is that Evergreen isn't even done yet with her sentimental speech. "Also, you get really happy whenever your man sends you a message, so all in all I'm glad our big plans didn't work out. I'm still going to be weary of his actual existence until I meet him, I hope you don't mind." He shakes his head. "Nah, be weary all you want."

After dropping Evergreen off at her boyfriend's, he rushes to his room to send Freed a message to update him on his situation (he even uses the actual sms-system instead of the internet, which is crazy expensive but he's in a bit of a panic). Unlike most of the time, Freed responds quickly. Laxus wonders why his wifi is absolute shit if he's rich enough to pay for intercontinential messaging. An agonising five minutes pass as the speech bubble ominously keeps showing that the other is typing. When it finally shows up, all it reads is :

"Lol"

"That's all you have to say?" he furiously types back, but before he can hit send, he gets another message. "Whatever man, I'll be the hottest boyfriend ever." After that, it's radio silence again.

The silence between them is broken a few days later. Laxus is trying to enjoy his lunch while Bickslow and Evergreen bicker over something or other, when his phone pings. Little gremlins that they are, they've already looked at the message as soon as it pops up. They read the godawful collection of words "Send me a pic of your feet" before he does.

"Romance at its finest", Bickslow dryly jokes and Evergreen turns to him with big worried eyes. "You're sure he's not a catfish? Or is this what you consider a raunchy picture?" Laxus would answer if he knew what the fuck is happening. Another message appears : "With measuring tapes surrounding them, not in a weird, gross, fifty year old with a feet kink kind of way. I want to spoil my boyfriend (with my father's creditcard)."

"Aw how sweet, he's committing crimes for ya", Bickslow croons and Laxus grumbles. "I'm not about to give him anymore excuses to commit theft.", he says while typing "Absolutely not." At the other side of the table Evergreen collects her phone from her bag and opens Instagram. After looking for and finding Freed's profile, she sends him a selfie with Laxus and Bickslow in the background and adds a thoughtful message detailing Laxus' feet. "Honey, you need shoes that fit you. No stores have your size and if your insanely rich boyfriend's dad can involuntarily provide, why not take the chance?"

A few days later, the shoes do arrive. They're the most comfortable pair Laxus has ever owned and there's no obnoxious trademarked name smacked on it. He thanks Freed, but asks him to please not do something along those lines again. Knowing full well that Freed himself would never be financially bothered by it, he still feels guilty. Freed apologises (he really shouldn't, he's been nothing but an angel while Laxus is being bothersome) and drops the matter.

"Where are you rn?" The message feels somewhat ominous, but Laxus ignores his gutfeeling that tells him that today is going to be weird. "The western outside food court of Crocus' uni, why?" The response that he gets is a simple : " :) ". Like a dumbass, he decides to not question it.

While he's chilling out, head resting on his crossed arms, he hears an unusual amount of chattering. Although he and his friends had chosen this place because of how little people came here, it seems like that peace is now gone. Rest in peace, piece. Vibrating bothersomely, his phone grabs his attention. "Got ya another present!" Brows furrowing, Laxus reads the new incoming message : "Kids and their phones these days. Look up darling !"

#fraxus #fraxus day #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #freedxlaxus #evergreen #bickslow #fairy tail #fanfic #TheFairyWrites

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faunusrights · 4 years

Text

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 15

IN THIS EPISODE OF MURPHY LOSES THEIR SHIT ON MAIN:

“Tell her I said: fuck you, you miserable, conniving bitch. I don’t answer her summons. I don’t obey her orders. I’m through. I’m through with her, with all of you—”

THERE’S LORE, BUT IMPORTANTLY MURPHY REMEMBERS WHY THEY THINK CINDER’S HOT. LITERALLY.

already??? already??? yes, already. this chapter is called ‘nothing personal’ anmd i think that this is a lie. this is abt to get very personal very quickly.

It had taken two more days for Glynda’s soul to become bearable enough for Cinder to sit next to her on a bus.

out of the funniest lines they could have used to open the chapter up, this is just Peak. there’s so many moving parts to this. glynda’s rank soul. cinder having to be nice for TWO DAYS to make her chill out. the fact they’re taking the most menial form of transport of all time. oh my god they were sat beside each other. this is already so funny.

Gravity Dust glittered like volcanic glass.

👈😎👈 we sure love volcanoes around here huh

The clearing Cinder found was some twenty minutes from where she left Glynda with instructions for something salty for her.

im almost POSITIVE im not supposed to find these lines funny but cinder you are RADIATING salt you are COMPOSED ENTIRELY of salt please. you’ve asked for smthng salty and glynda’s gonna come back announcing she’s foiled all yr plans on accident again.

Mercury had stopped sending messages a month and a half ago. Emerald’s last one was a week old.

im almost definitely mentioned it in a prior liveblog but its worth remembering: cinder’s relationship w/ merc and em rly was the deciding factor in me suddenly loving her as a character and i just. every interaction they have hurts so good. cinders got TWO kids and even if her face says otherwise she loves them very much and that heals me on the inside

“There’s no way anyone knows about this island. We’re the only ones out here. Merc and I have to get his shitty frozen pizzas airshipped in.”

“Still. Be careful.” She paused for a moment. “...Is that all he’s eating?”

“You know he’d die before he ate a vegetable.”

“He will, at this rate.”

I LOVE U MOMMA CINDER AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA this is SO good. this section HEALS ME!!!!!!!! which is good because i have a feeling the rest of this will gore me alive

"I promise. At the end of all of this, I'm coming back and I'm not leaving again. Trust me."

aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAA god u cant tell thru text alone but this section is K I L L I N G me and H E A L I N G me and also KIL L I

“It doesn’t have anything to do with trust,” Cinder said, miserably. “I need you to be safe.”

N G M E

The line between us and them had felt so concrete.

god i just. theres so much i still cant say that isnt 👈👈👈😨👈👈👈 but cinder and hati and all this other STUFF happening in the bg is so good and i just love how nuanced this dumbass is. cinder fall, the woman who never wins, and her brief moments of comfort. she is my ANGEEEEEEEEEEL

Now the only thing left was to deliver her to Atlas; if she had to speak with her more to do that, she would.

Not that she wanted to have to admit that to Hati.

cinder:there’s a lot of we and our going on and i’m a little nervous that the more we talk the more thats gonna happen and i gotta say; not a fan.

and [Glynda]’s desperate for—”

A heritage? A purpose? Belonging?

“She’s desperate,” Cinder finished, softly. Then: “She’s coming willingly.”

this might be another 👈😎👈 situation or im just drawing parallels like a three year old with a newfound ruler but HRM. CINDER. HRM.

Rather, her stomach twisted at the implications. Everything was ready. The machine worked. All that was left was to deliver the final piece.

“Okay. Good.” It was good. It was the culmination of years of work.

whats good and fun is watching cinder wrestle w/ her own humanity and its rly good because even as she tries her very best to use ppl to her own ends that pesky lil soft bitch inside makes her second guess everything and its GREAT fun. u can rly see that as soon as she spends longer than an allotted 10 minutes w/ somebody she starts being like ‘hrm. oh no’. oh cinder. u soft bitch. ilu.

The spot beneath his wing, though… Cinder folded into it as though it were meant for her, as though they were meant for each other, bodies fitted so easily. Here, safe, she closed her eyes and dreamed bleakly of the days to come.

i swear to god i cannot wait until [redacted] and [redacted] and [REDACTED] happens cause then i can lose my shit abt this ALL OVER AGAIN but for now. for now. immerse myself in cinder cuddles. im holding back but on the inside im feral

but Cinder was all calm, sliding through the trees like she belonged here. Like it was her domain by birthright.

FERAL.... FERAL!!!!!!!!!!!!

Because they were not friends, Glynda asked, “Where are we going?”

i love that glynda has to preface it like a reminder. because they were not friends. because she cannot trust winter. because she blocked oz’s number lmao. it’s great seeing how much more... clinical, i guess, glynda’s thoughts are, and it’s a great way to show the narratives differences? its GOOD is what im trying 2 say on main,

Instead, she complained, “It’s so difficult to be so wanted.”

firstly: i love cinder “i have a complaint” fall is secondly: i am going to read into this. i am going to read into this and divine a second meaning. i am reading into it.

Cinder emerged from the dark like a leviathan sloughing off a sunless sea. It rippled around her shoulders, swallowed the back of her skull, but the only sharpness to her was her smile. It was the first time Cinder had smiled since returning from her meeting with the Manticore.

oho. ohoohohohoooohohohooOUGHHOHOHO she hot. nasty mean lady big hott.

“You don’t scare me,” Glynda insisted.

“Silly you,” said Cinder. “Come on. I’ll lead.”

hohogughgohohoghgh f flirtign.......................,,,,,,,,,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

a faint light was stirring to life before her—suffusing out along Cinder’s chest and throat, spilling from her heart and out through her skin. In the beginning, it was so faint it seemed to be an illusion; but no, soon enough it was undeniable, and Glynda could even make out the rough shapes of the wall and floor.

YEEEEEEEEES i love. glowy lantern cinder. like theres a lot of fun little canons abt cinder in this fic i adore but the fact that she glows is like fuckin TOP. look at her. lil candle baby. shes like a microwave bean toy. i adore her.

She walked like a queen through her domain, seemingly irrespective of where on Remnant they were; even here, underground, in forgotten left-behind places, Cinder reigned.

god im sorry im too busy being gay to even be paying attention to anything rn i LOVE cinder to DEATH,,,,,,,,,, she knows shes the thing 2 be feared around here and its so good. i cant wait for her to open her big mouth and fuck it up again!!!

“High Leader Khan requires your presence in Mistral, Ms. Fall. She advises that you attend promptly, in order to discuss the missing members of our organization.”

A hum. Cinder said, “I don’t want to.”

GHSDFGSDFGHKJDF cinder you are. smthng else. shes just so LIKE THAT. what a great chapter for cinder this has been im SIPPIN baby

okay im doing a lot of leaping haead here and its not for lack of having anything 2 say in fact its QUITE the opposite because this whole bit is. wow. we got lore??? lore??? abt so many things??? what does any of it mean????? I AM NOT SURE BUT IM LOVIN IT (tm)

“It’s not a Semblance, idiot.” The control in Cinder’s voice was all staccato, pitching cold to inferno in an instant. “It was a gift.

okay bear with me for this JUICY LORE but i am Deeply fascinated by this section. im not gonna. say anything because idk how this is tying up yet (bear with) but HOO. HOOOOOOO. im trying to like keep grabbing sections but this whole part is SO GOOD i am loving-- like-- id have to-- TRUST ME THE OG WASNT AS SPICY AS THIS OKAY

THIS IS SO MUCH SPICER AND ITS GOOD

Cinder glowed like the magma heart of a volcano.

ITS SPICY ITS GOOD ITS 👈😍👈

im gonna have to reread this bit to get the full effect because the downside of a liveblog like this is having to stop-start but OUGHGHGHGUGHUGH THE LORE,,, THE MASKS,,, THE FANG??? also sienna dont listen 2 her baby i love u too

Cinder looked like a line to be crossed, and even though they weren’t friends—rather the opposite—Glynda found she didn’t want to cross her. Not now, when the emotion was still raw on her face.

oughgh... the vulnerability. cinder... snoft... but also angery 😔

this was SUCH a good chapter im DYING i love cinder in offal hunt to BITS and this arc is already feeding me so much good shit. fuck yea. FUCK YEA. HELL YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--

#rwby #offal hunt #liveblog #welcome to the cinder fall defence squad how may i take yr order

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: Joint Effort (baon)

Summary: Jeff is getting back on his feet and that’s pretty nice. He’s not so sure about Red and Sans’s version of helping, though.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationship, Humor, Marijuana Usage

Notes: I’m getting my timeline a little scattered, but man did I need something funny and cute.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Staying in New New Home was nice.

Honestly, one of the nicest places Jeff ever lived and there was something about knowing that if he went outside for a walk at least one person was bound to wave at him, and if it was a skeleton or a Bun or even a Moldsmal, it was, well. It was nice.

Not that Jeff was walking that much, he was only just back on his feet. Blue spent a decent amount of time this morning scolding him not to overdo it, doublechecked that he had his phone and that he’d call if he needed to, and gave him a sack lunch before shooing him out the door.

Maybe it was a little overkill for a walk over to Stretch’s house, but the kindness of it made a warm glow settle in Jeff’s middle and that was a nice change from the itch of his healing stitches. It reminded him a bit of how it felt for Stretch to pull his soul out, but that memory was blurred through pain medicine. Maybe someday he could persuade Stretch to do it again, just to compare his memory to reality. But not today.

Today they were hanging out to celebrate Jeff’s return to being upright. Stretch seemed all for the bag lunch anyway, promptly stealing it and now they were sitting in the backyard together sharing the chocolate chip cookies while the nice, healthy sandwich on wheat sat wilting in the heat, sad and ignored.

The chickens wandered around the yard, occasionally inspecting their feet for possible goodies. This was nice, too, sitting in comfortable silence with a friend, sharing snacks and company.

“hey, you two.”

Swallowing back a yelp, Jeff whipped around to see Sans and Red standing behind them, lounging back against the large tree. He didn’t really know either of them well, Sans a bit better of the two since he’d helped out with the lab work that one time. But the matching grins on their faces filled him with a sense of foreboding.

Stretch seemed to agree. He slouched even more in his chair, rolling his eye lights as he reached out lazily to snuff his cigarette out in the nearby ashtray. “hey, you two back. what do you want?”

“aww, that ain’t nice, honey bun,” Red shook his head sadly. “maybe we just came to visit you and your little feathery dinosaurs for andy’s first real outing.”

“maybe. except every time you come over you have an agenda, short stack, and it better not be trying to sneak in more of your spy shit.”

“i’m here, too,” Sans pointed out. “what’s the agenda, do i need to take notes? got a pen i can borrow?”

“like you’d do anything he says? i know you, you have your own shit planned. better not let him be rubbing off on you and you can skip all the puns around that, i’ve already thought of all the good ones and the statute of limitations isn’t up.”

“rubbing ‘em out as we speak,” Sans said solemnly. “now, if you’re through your daily quota of paranoia, we brought you both a gift.”

“you can’t have any cookies.”

“we ain’t after the fucking cookies. besides the blueberry would hand some over himself if we asked and you know it.” Red nudged Sans ungently and got a sharp elbow to the ribs for his trouble. “show ‘em.”

With theatrical flare, Sans reached into his hoodie pocket and withdrew what to Jeff’s inexperienced eye looked like a joint. “ta fucking da.”

From Stretch’s brutally unimpressed expression, he probably wasn’t very excited. “seriously?”

“c’mon, please?” Sans wheedled, hands clasped together in a pantomime of pleading. “we haven’t smoked since you hooked your anchor to the edgelord.”

“yeah, because the last time my brother was ready to commit a couple murders over what we did to his sofa.”

“he got a new one! besides, can’t burn any of the good furniture if we stay out here. it’ll be fun! andy, talk to him.”

Jeff froze, looking between the twin earnestly pleading expressions (it was oddly disturbing on Red’s face) and Stretch’s skeptical one. “Um. I don’t mind if you guys want to?”

“don’t go into infomercials, kid, you ain’t so good at the ringing endorsements,” Red said dryly. “c’mon, i doubledchecked, it won’t interact bad with your meds.”

“ixnay,” Sans hissed. Stretch only sighed.

“of course you did, you shit. you know, i need to stop bitching about my brother being controlling because you’re valedictorian with an advanced degree in meddling.”

“yeah, yeah, me and those kids with the dog,” Red waved that away. ”c’mon, we could all use some chill. either smoke with us, or sansy and i’ll go back to my place and do it there.”

“give me that,” Stretch said irritably, reaching for the roll. Sans let him pluck it away. He flicked his lighter and held it to the end until it kindled, inhaling deeply. Breathed out a cloud of smoke with a faint cough, “at least if you’re here i can keep an eye on you.”

“oh, yeah, you’re great as adult supervision. i feel safer already.” Sans took it back when Stretch held it out, taking a hit of his own. He held it out to Jeff, “give this a try, andy.”

“Um, that’s okay?” Jeff said meekly. “I tried it in college, it doesn’t do much for me. I don’t want to waste it.”

“can’t hurt to take a hit then,” Red said reasonably. “give it a try. what could wrong?”

~~*~~

“He is hot as hell, though, right?” Jeff slurred out, blinking up dazedly at the bright blue of the sky.

The path of his descent to laying on the grass was only a little convoluted. Starting with his feet being suddenly too hot, so he kicked off his shoes and the grass felt so good on his bare feet he decided that laying on it would feel even better. It did, all cool, faintly prickly glory and that mingled with sweet relaxation lapping over him was a hell of a lot better than simply nice.

He was pretty sure one of the chickens was trying to preen his hair. He damn well hoped it was a chicken.

“the edgelord?” Came from next to him where Sans had joined in on his magnificent quest to the grass. Red and Stretch were occupying their own section of the lawn, solidifying it as a common goal. Sans didn’t wait for Jeff to reply, only added with lazy fervor, “fuck, yeah, he is.”

Okay, so, all of them ending up on the grass was a path Jeff could chart. This topic of conversation, not so much.

After passing the joint a couple times, —and Jeff was pretty sure he hadn’t meant to take more than one hit— the rest of the cookies had fallen quickly to their ravenous appetite. So had the sandwich and the little baggie of chisps, and somewhere in there Stretch was lamenting that Edge wasn’t home to bring them more snacks. Sans made some comment about Edge being a snack, and then—

Jeff wasn’t entirely sure what qualified as attractive to Monsters, but from his own observations of others around them, he was pretty sure when they were handing out the sexy, Edge went back for a second helping. Didn’t hurt to ask though, right?

From somewhere around his bare feet, Jeff felt the grass stir, then a bony finger poked the sole of his foot hard enough to make him yelp. “are you two discussing how hot my husband is without me?”

“nah, you’re sitting right there.”

“i didn’t think so,” Stretch sniffed. “yeah, he’s really hot, isn’t he. fuck, when he wears those jeans—“

“yeah, and those boots of his—“

“And that belt? Kind of, you know, draws the eyes down, yeah?”

The sound that came from Jeff’s left made him frown, trying to turn his wobbly head that way to see how a wounded animal managed to get into Stretch’s backyard. But the only thing there was Red and rather than enjoying the feel of the grass, he looked like he might be attempting to bite out a chunk of the ground.

“can we please not talk about how hot my baby bro is?” Red said, and wow. Jeff never took him for the begging type. “let’s talk about how hot someone else’s honey is. you!”

Jeff froze when Red pointed at him accusingly.

“Me? Oh! Oh, yeah, Antwan is hot,” Jeff agreed eagerly, sighing happily as his mental picture of Edge was overlaid with Antwan. Both of them obviously took far more than their fair share of sexy on their buffet plates, letting it spill over onto everything else like salad dressing seeping into the mac and cheese. Hmmm, maybe he could keep them on his thought player side by side, Edge and Antwan—

His introspection was interrupted by a loud scoff from Red. “we know he’s hot, we can see. how is he in the sack, now, that’s a real question.”

“Um.” There were many answers to that question in varying stages of pornographic, each battling with his dwindling common sense to be said first.

“you can’t ask him that!” Stretch scolded and gave Red a rough shove with his own bony bare foot. Jeff’s swelling relief at being rescued was immediately punctured as he went on. “i’m his best friend, i get to ask. how is he in the sack?”

“Uhmm…he’s…good?” Jeff tried but as answers went, no one seemed very satisfied with it. ”Really good?”

“that’s how you describe a mediocre summer action flick, not getting laid,” Red complained.

“don’t pick on him!” Stretch said, loyal even in his disappointment. “don’t feel bad, andy, edge is good in the sack, too.”

“doesn’t anyone want to know how good my boyfriend is in the sack?” Sans asked.

“no!”

“you ain’t even got a boyfriend, you shit.”

“Yeah, okay. Is he hot?”

Before Sans could answer, a pair of boots came up beside Jeff’s head. He stared in awe at the glory of them. They were nice boots, familiar boots, and Jeff reached out to rub a thumb over the dark, shiny leather. To his disappointment, they moved out of his reach and Jeff sighed sadly, absently looking up the long, long legs, up, up…oh.

Edge was looking down at them, arms crossed over his chest and that look should be patented under Severely Disappointed.

“What are you idiots doing?” It was a question, but Jeff had his suspicions that Edge already knew.

“babe!” Stretch said gleefully and made an attempt to sit up. It failed somewhere around the point of pushing up on his elbows and he sank back to the grass. “you’re home! we’re just…uh…” That laser of disapproval looked like it cut through the cloud of his high and dawning realization washed over Stretch’s face. He made a hasty attempt to change tactics. “hey. uh. love you?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“which one will make you less mad?”

“Neither, brat.” But he moved to kneel next to him, a gloved hand gently smoothing over Stretch’s skull. He made a happy little sound, not unlike the chickens, and leaned into that touch. “I’m not angry. You seem relaxed.”

“yeah,” Stretch sighed. The way he tipped his head into Edge’s petting made Jeff unsuccessfully stifle a giggle. “and we kept it outside!”

“Smoking anything in my house is unwise,” Edge agreed.

Sans leaned up with marginally more success than Stretch, holding up the joint. “you want a hit?”

“No, thank you,” Edge said dryly. “Try not to light anything on fire this time. Do you all want a snack?”

From his wince, they were maybe a little too enthusiastic with their response. But Edge only nodded, his thumb skirting over the curve of Stretch‘s skull a last time before he climbed back to his feet, and Jeff watched in bemusement as both Stretch and Sans lifted their heads to watch Edge walk away.

Or at least Sans tried. For some reason his head dropped back to the grass with a muttered, “ouch! stop it asshole, i ain’t lookin’!”

The door closed and Jeff whispered as softly as he could to Stretch. “I thought he’d be mad.”

Apparently, his whispers were currently set to high. Stretch only flapped a hand vaguely at the house. “nah, he’s cool. also, he can hear you, he opened the kitchen window. gotta be a mamma bear.”

Sans’s voice managed to be somehow vague and still rich with his own brand of disappointment. “aww, so we have to stop talking about how hot he is?”

The loud sound of dishes crashing made a round of wincing go through them all.

Stretch waited for the last of the clatter to fade. “only if you want something to eat.”

“i’ll think about it…ouch! okay, okay, i’m done!”

Jeff shook his head when Sans held out the joint to him again. Whatever snack Edge was making, he wanted some, too, and if the price was ending any chatter about how hot Edge was, eh.

Better to not take the chance.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name #kustard

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witchqueenofthemoon · 5 years

Text

BODY AND SOUL Part 24 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I suspected the Gala would be at least two parts, and I was right--this is ostensibly the first half of it, 25 will be the second half. I don’t think it’ll go longer than that, but who knows, I never know until I sit down and write the chapter. Here are some higher quality pics of Kenzie’s dress. Her hair looks like this, but with tiny dark red rose buds rather than those little white flowers in it. Her makeup is similar to this look for Billie’s Bello magazine shoot, but her lipstick is like mine here. Here are her shoes. Kenzie is beginning to be able to see herself the way other people do--as something truly divine, her “Supremeness”, as it were--but she has no ego in those moments. The perception is an accurate one. The album Duncan puts on is Prince’s self-titled, the first track is I WANNA BE YOUR LOVER. Duncan’s hair in this part is similar to Cody’s hair here, which is more or less always how Duncan’s hair looks, just particularly well-coiffed on this night, I guess. His makeup is like Cody’s here. With Hannah and Georgio, I wanted to juxtapose the different reactions Duckenzie invoke in people--for some they are divinely inspiring, and for others with darker auras, they invoke carnal lust. Hannah’s jumpsuit looks like this, her hair like this. I based her vaguely on my friend Aly, who has a very dusty sunset aura to me and a beautiful soul. Here’s Annette’s Gala dress. Her hair looks like this. The necklace she gives Kenzie is vintage Cartier, and it looks like this. A special shout out to Luna (@misslunarayne/@officialcodysfallenangels) who inspired Anchaly reading Hawthorne’s THE NEW ADAM AND EVE; she’s the one who told me about the Millory parallels in that book. Momby’s dress, her rose pin, her scarf. Here’s Jimi Hendrix’s PURPLE HAZE (he and I have the same birthday, November 27th). STOP AND BE FRIENDLY is a reference to CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, one of my favorite films (so I made it one of Kenzie’s favorites, too). I couldn’t find a logo for Shepherd Unlimited, and have no idea if the HOUSE OF CARDS showrunners ever created one, so I made one up. Here’s Gretchen Friedrichs’ absolute monstrosity of a dress. Sissy Conners’ dress looks like this. The “very famous actor” can be whoever you want it to be--I dunno, Colin Firth or Ryan Gosling or somebody. Here are the Pre-Raphaelite works I reference in this part: VENUS VERTICORDIA, VANITY, THE FIELD OF THE SLAIN, THE GOLDEN STAIRS, OPHELIA. Here are the angels from Waterhouse’s ST. CECELIA who remind Kenzie of Lindy and Gabby. To me, Lindy and Gabby represent the Millory fans; the lovely people I’ve met online who ship Michael x Mallory, without whom I would not have been inspired to write this story. The Millory fans are by and large extremely beautiful souls who have touched my heart immensely--in most cases, young women (many of you bi/pan, like me) who want to believe in love and redemption and beauty, and my fic, in many ways, is for young (and young at heart) women and nonbinary people who want these things in their lives. I still believe in the healing, transcendent power of love, despite all the terrible things in this world, and I ALWAYS will, and this is and will continue to be an unabashed love story. Here’s Marissa Montague’s dress. Her hair is like Emma’s here. She was fun to write. My Marissa is a very superficial, sad person, and Kenzie sees through her right away. The Ducatis are a wealthy family I made up who Duncan used to hang out with when he was younger, partying all the time with superficial socialites like Marissa. I wanted to note that Duncan did go through a phase where he was doing coke all the time and sleeping around, because he is indeed a spoiled rich boy in some ways, and he wasn’t always a great person. Kenzie has given him purpose and an active desire to be better, because love always inspires one to be better. Kenzie is waking to powers she didn’t know she had as she and Duncan get closer to learning about their true natures. If anyone would like to make a Gala moodboard/edit for this part of the story, I’d be OVERJOYED. And as ever, if you’re reading along, your comments, likes, reblogs, asks and edits mean everything to me. Please take a second to like the fic if you’re reading, thank you!

Kenzie broke their kiss reluctantly, her head cloudy with the scent of him (the woods of you, your ache for me, I feel the wildness of your high desire for me, baby, impatient for later), aware of Claire and Morgan’s eyes on them in the bright studio. Duncan made a soft sound as she pulled away from him, one of regret at her absence--his lips came up to her temple, his hands pulling her into him; those hands on the silky gold of her dress made her heart drop down to float in her stomach, spread warm tendrils to her sex. She could feel his thoughts still, aching against her.

Kenzie. My beloved. Everyone will bow to you tonight. But I swear I am your most devoted. And I swear I will worship you best.

“Wow, it got really hot in here,” Claire murmured, fluttering her hand against her cheek, breathing out in a long stream. “Fuck, you two look amazing. Wait until they do her hair and makeup, Duncan. They’ll want to hang pictures of her in the MOMA.”

“Clairebear, stoppit.”

“I am not fucking joking around, Kenzie Lou. You two look like a drawing in a mythology book. Like a fairy tale.” Kenzie could see the tears glittering around the edges of Claire’s eyes; her friend looked away, clearly overwhelmed in her emotions.

“My darlings,” Morgan said, coming up to them, reaching for their hands. Kenzie took one, Duncan the other, his arm still dipped around her waist, trailing up and down the softness of the gold there, against the waves of her hair. “Likes Hades and his bright queen Persephone.”

“They really are like that,” Kenzie heard Claire say as Morgan moved toward her assistant, agreeing delightedly, grasping Claire’s hand now. She felt her cheeks flush.

“That’s how I always think of her,” Kenzie heard Duncan say to Morgan. “Surrounded by flowers, bringing spring. Healing me.” Kenzie’s heart twinged. Everyone can see it. How he’s been healed. And I supposed it has been because of me in some ways. But I know he had it in him, in his dear heart, all along. And despite what he knows about Annette now, he’ll defy that too. He’ll transcend whatever was holding him back. Duncan had turned his head back down to her, and his hands tightened on her, the gold bracelet brushing along her bare shoulder blade.

I will, baby. With you here, I can do anything. As long as you’re here I know nothing can really hurt me. My constant moon. My flower of the universe. She was nodding, overwhelmed in the weight of his touch, his hand drifting to cradle her head at the nape of her neck.

“Erik’s going to be bringing the stylists to the penthouse soon,” he said down to her, his eyes intensely bright on her (so blue so blue blue like the blessed daylight, blue like sapphire), his thoughts bursts of brilliant desire, like tiny electric shocks cascading over her. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you--”

“I’m losing my mind over you--” Kenzie gripped at the velvet lapels of his gold-kissed jacket, lifting her hand up to the soft waves of his hair, the diamond and gold at her wrist reminding her again of her daydreams of the circlet of a crown around his head. Duncan. You worship me but my love, I worship you also. I am moved, body and soul, by you. Prince of stars.

The gold is your hands on me, he whispered into the corners of her mind. How it feels to be touched by you. How it feels to be looked at by you. How it feels to be loved by you. The gold is you and tonight everything is for you, and everyone will see you and know.

“Duncan, look at her shoes,” Claire was coming over to them, having found some semblance of composure, carefully holding Kenzie’s elbow as she leaned to the hem of the cascading gold dress, lifting it so Kenzie’s feet were exposed--her shoes were shimmering gold platform sandals with ribbons that wrapped around her ankles, tying at the back.

“They remind me of the shoes she was wearing the night we met,” Duncan was saying to Claire, his hand trailing down Kenzie’s arm, sending a shiver down her back. “I remember I looked at her feet and I thought oh, she ties her shoes in double knots, like I do. And in that moment, I was a goner.”

“Everything you ever wanted,” Kenzie grinned at him. “A girl who ties her shoes like you.”

“She looked like a fucking angel, Claire. You look like a fucking goddess right now, Kenzie. Like a queen. I love you.” Duncan was pressing against her again, his mouth on her cheek, his hands falling down the dress, and Kenzie’s heart was in her mouth, the shape and scent of him the only thing, the greatest of all things, the center of her soul intoxicated in him.

“He ain’t kidding, Kenz. I can’t wait to see BPF tomorrow, honestly. That website is becoming one of my favorite pastimes nowadays, they’re as obsessed with my best friend as I am.” Claire’s eyes had tears in them again, and Kenzie felt her own eyes go misty.

“I fucking love you, Clairebear. Thank you for everything. I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am about you and Harris.”

When Claire had been helping Kenzie dress in the side-room, her friend had told her how shyly and sweetly Harris had called her after Kenzie had passed along her phone number; how he’d asked her if she’d be open to “stepping out” with him, and had told her that he’d been immediately moved by how lovely she was. “I know he’s like ten years older than me, but I feel like--” Claire had blushed deeply, and Kenzie had clutched her hands (oh Claire, I love you and your sweet spirit so much)--”I just--Kenzie Lou, I just feel like he has a lovely soul. I feel like he’s been mostly happy--like me--for a long time, but also lonely, like me, for a long time--” Tears had welled up in Claire’s eyes, and half-dressed, Kenzie had clutched her, burying her face in Claire’s flowery shoulder (she always smells like sunlight on grass and fresh lavender to me), knowing what Claire had meant, knowing Claire didn’t need to say anything else. To have someone to understand you, someone who can truly hold you in the hollow of their heart. I know, Clairebear. More than a friend. A lover. She had pushed a wave of gold into Claire--Claire had quieted and gone back to helping with her dress, wrapping the train carefully over Kenzie’s shoulder, straightening its cascade over her shoulder blade, pulling her hair free from where it’d tucked under the bodice and pulling her fingers through the waves. “Princess Kenzie,” she had whispered, and it had struck a long chord through Kenzie’s heart, reminded her of Duncan--Princess, moon princess, my little moonbeam--and the worship of his words and his lips and his hands in the darkness in their bed, and Kenzie had shivered to behold the way she seemed to transform in the gown, the way the woman who had stared at her in the slender mirror of the dressing room truly began to seem like a princess--like some golden queen, some other Kenzie who fears nothing. And so I will resolve to be her tonight. I will be fearless, regal, that Kenzie who is a queen, Persephone on her throne in the Underworld. I will pretend I’m her tonight, and hold my head high. Duncan told me I belong in this world--and I think I do, because I belong where he is. So I’ll pretend I’m not afraid. I’ll be the one who protects him tonight, because his heart has been wounded and his spirit needs me.

Even looking at him in the splendor of the gold-dipped blazer and the regal gold collar, she could still see the pain behind his gaze, the melancholy ache of yesterday still lingering around his mouth. My Hades, trapped in the Underworld. You felt lost; you still do. Even in the certainty of our love, you are questioning who you are. But together we’re going to find out. We’re going to find the secrets of ourselves together. Duncan was thanking Morgan, kissing her gloved hand, making Morgan laugh with delight--Kenzie’s heart pounded fiercely as she watched him, the fall of his hair, his height, the brightness of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, his angelic beauty, compounded by the elegant clothes. Beloved. Tonight we’ll show everyone how bright we shine together--tomorrow, we’ll retreat into the woods, to whisper our love into each other without needing to speak, to hide and heal in each other’s embrace, and gaze at the stars, and find each other’s secret places. To find the secrets that are so close to us, that we cannot see but have begun to feel, to sense in each other. They are so near. They are the shadow that stands beside us, and soon we’ll be able to see them, Duncan, baby.

He was looking over at her, and she saw in his eyes the recognition of her thoughts. I feel them too. Like they are waiting just around the corner for us. Like we’re seeing them in the mirror today, not ourselves. The echo of them.

They left Morgan’s studio with their hands grasped tightly together, Kenzie’s train carefully draped over Duncan’s arm as he led her down the stairs, easily supporting her petite frame as she blushed down at her feet, trying not to fall in the golden heels, trying not to fall into him the way she was longing to, dying to, remembering the way she’d pushed him into the wall in the stairwell that first night, impossibly hungry for him, the most beautiful boy I have ever fucking seen, and now, somehow, ever more beautiful, almost impossibly so. She could feel the tiny tremors under her skin, the dancing bursts of nervousness, the nerves borne of how lovely he was right now, how staggeringly beautiful to look at. We’ve fucked like crazy, we live together, and god, I still feel so fucking shy of you right now.

“Baby, are you kidding,” he whispered against her as she hovered on the stair above him, leaning his mouth up into her chin, hands falling back and forth over the golden cascade that covered her body. “You’re shy of me? I’m so fucking nervous right now--you’re so fucking beautiful and I can’t even think straight. You can’t possibly be mine. I can’t possibly deserve you. You’re a fucking angel.”

And he was pressing her against the wall of the stairwell now, ever so gently, the chilly cement of it against the bareness of her shoulders above the lame of the dress, her train still tucked into the crook of his elbow, and his mouth down at her collarbone, keeping her tethered to him, his lips drifting to her neck and below her ear, his breath whispering there, his eyelashes brushing the tiny space at the corner of her eye, tasting at her, murmuring further and further into her mind with taut insistence as his hands trembled and shivered down her arms, I can’t wait to get home so you can push that ring onto my cock, can’t wait to push that plug inside you while we stare into each other in the eyes of the Mirror that’s drifting into our dreams now, can’t wait to keep you close to me all night, anticipating the moment where we’re truly alone, can’t wait for everyone to behold you and the thrill of the secret knowledge that despite their longing you are mine alone, and that you chose me among all, that you blessed me, beloved, most fair among all, as your lover, I can’t wait to be so close to you again that we don’t know where part from each other, so close the sweat on our skin mingles on our skin flushed against each other, so close I can feel the clutch of your cunt gripping onto me, claiming me, fucking me, devouring me, can’t wait for you to fuck me, angel--and the insistence of his mouth under her hair was pushing her eyes to the metal underside of the staircase above, her mouth falling open in a gasp of absolute need that drive sharp knives of longing through her whole body.

Fuck, Duncan, I want you so much, I want you all to myself, Prince Duncan, I want your need to be the only thing you can think of, your need for me, I’m the golden gift just for you, the Pandora’s box full not of darkness, but exquisite loveliness, all for you, but you have to be patient today, Erik and the stylists are waiting for us, everyone is waiting for us tonight, waiting to see you, beautiful exalted Prince--

No, they’re waiting for YOU, my golden Persephone, it’s your golden beauty they are waiting for--his mouth was hovering over hers, not touching it, not quite, but begging to, sweetly open, aching to take hers, tilting his head, impossibly blue eyes rising and falling down the curve of her face, the gold waterfall of her dress--

“Let’s go, baby,” she gasped, gently pushing his arms away from her, gently turning from his mouth despite the soft, imploring sounds he made, his curls and the bridge of his nose brushing against her cheek. I can’t hold out when you’re touching me that way, I can’t stand it, Dunny, you have to stop, I can’t, I want you so much--

She grasped his hand as he stepped back on shaking feet, the gold of their bracelets clinking together softly, and he carefully gripped the train as she stepped ahead of him, down the last flight of stairs to the palm-lined foyer of Morgan’s studio building, and they were out in the oppressive, flushed heat of the day, but it felt good on Kenzie’s skin, it was a relief to be enveloped in the heat that was coursing through her body already. The world has been set on fire with our love, she thought, looking up at Duncan as he came through the door beside her, towards where Samuel was parked on the corner. He dipped his head to her, his mouth set to stave off his longing, and he was pushing his Yves sunglasses over his (ethereal blue like the heavens) eyes, but before he did she could see the patterned geometry of his soul there, which saw hers utterly, and wanted her, utterly, loved her, entirely. The world has turned, changed for us, become ours, and now it sees us, and it bows and encircles us in its desire, its heat is its kisses of worship on our skin, and it knows who we are. Soulmates.

---------

Samuel was looking at them with moon-bright eyes as Duncan helped Kenzie into the deeply cool interior of the car, and Kenzie smiled back at him shyly as he turned the stereo dial up--with a thrill she realized it was Jimi Hendrix, and his wild guitar crashed against her. Summer music.

Purple haze all in my brain, lately things don’t seem the same, actin’ funny but I don’t know why, ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky...

“My dear Duncan and Mackenzie,” he said, foot on the gas, “you look like you stepped down from heaven a moment ago, off a falling star.”

“I feel like I’m in heaven, Samuel,” Kenzie replied, as Duncan’s hand slipped into hers. “I can’t come down, and I don’t want to.”

“You know it’s the full moon tonight,” Duncan’s chauffeur said, slipping dark sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the sunlight that streamed through the window. “The juju that comes on nights such as these is quite special. It’s fortuitous that the Gala is on such a night--tonight will be the night the world will see the true brightness of your love.”

Kenzie puzzled for a moment over Samuel’s words--what does that mean? She looked up at Duncan, who seemed to be openly staring at her behind his dark sunglasses, his lips parted, his hand dry and warm, his thumb drifting over her palm. She lifted a finger to pull them down at the rim, exposing his eyes to her--yep, staring. Blue like the clear shore of a bright ocean.

“What does that mean?” She mouthed to him, smiling at him, her cheeks flushed. Oddly, Samuel lifted the partition after that, somehow content not to explain himself further.

Duncan shrugged, and his fingers tightened in hers. He shook his head. Baby, I don’t know. But I have a strange feeling about tonight. I had a strange feeling about yesterday, too--I know you felt that. But today doesn’t have that mean feeling like yesterday, does it? It has some other kind of feeling. It’s heavy, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s like--a giant wheel turning. Like a huge clock tower chiming the hour. Like lifting your face to the sun after you’ve been indoors for a long time.

Yeah. Like that, she thought, nodding, her other hand drifting against his thigh, and then she spoke, in the cocoon of their privacy. “Duncan...I feel like I swallowed the sun and every bit of light is shooting from my eyes and my mouth and the tips of my hair and everyone it touches, they feel it too, they feel bright and healed. I feel like it’s my destiny to do that--touch people with the sunlight I can feel inside me.”

“You always make me feel that way. Like nothing bad can happen to me when you’re here. Like you’re the sun in the day and the moon at night, and you bring light where there would be darkness without you. Kenzie,” and he pressed his hand into her waist, his eyes fluttering at the softness of the gown, his breath gasping. “God, I want to just run away with you.”

“Away from everyone and everything to a secret place where no one can find us,” she whispered against him. Kenzie’s body felt flushed with overwhelming heat despite the coolness of the car. “Soon, baby, soon, we’ll eat fruit under the trees and swim in the lake and fuck so fucking much--” and she drifted her hand against his throat, thumb on the fullness of his lips, pulling him down against her, Duncan pulling his glasses off and dropping them unceremoniously on the car’s floor, gathering her in his arms, his mouth flushing into hers with her fingers still pressed under his jaw, tightening to hold him steady against her, and he whispered into her mouth, “baby, fuck, Kenzie--” and she could feel the rapid, frenzied drifting of his mind, the Bacchanalian chaotic need that was building in the center of him. To love you is holy madness, Mackenzie Stone. I fucking worship you. His mouth was in her hair, his fingers pulling it to his nose to breathe in the scent of her, and his expression was one of angelic beauty, an aching supplication to her, his finely chiseled features, his long straight nose, his full lips, his sharp jaw utterly divine in the purity of his love. It took her breath away to see him this way--it took her senses and rattled them apart, leaving her feeling spread like the particles of stardust in the night sky.

“Tonight,” she whispered against him, and she made herself look into his eyes, despite the shaking in her own soul, despite her fear of his beauty, because despite our closeness, my love, I still fear how lovely you are, I still fear your devotion because it shakes my fucking soul, and I fear you because your beauty seems impossible, and I see the inhuman in you, I fear the loss of you, for I’d die without you now-- “you’re gonna be aching for me all night, aren’t you, baby, you’re not gonna touch yourself at all, either, are you, baby, even though you’re gonna want to, I know,” and his tongue was pressing out onto her bottom lip, his tiny moans like sweet music in her ears, “you’re gonna want to but you aren’t going to, because only I get to touch you, only I get to take that ring off your poor aching cock, my poor baby--”

Duncan’s hands tightened at the back of her hair, twisting and forcefully pressing so her mouth crashed against his, and the need in it crushing against her heart with a possessive hand. I won’t baby, I won’t, but fuck, I want you now, how can I wait so long. His mouth was like the musky juice of some unearthly fruit. He must be what ambrosia tastes like. Like fucking sex. Like the pinnacle of all my desires. Like the highest part of my hope and the wildest release of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. There’s nothing like it I’ve ever felt anywhere. Him.

Kenzie’s hands were clutched to the gold-kissed lapels of his velvety jacket as they arrived at the penthouse all too soon, her fingers drifting against the intricate cages of the collar tips.

“I feel like you should be wearing a crown,” she whispered to him. Duncan’s hands were coming around to clutch hers at his throat, his mouth kissing at her fingertips.

“I keep imagining flowers in your hair,” he replied. “Flowers would be your crown, my beautiful Kenzie. So many flowers.”

Samuel was lowering the partition and Kenzie moaned against him, her heart crushed that they had so much longer to go before they’d be alone together again. It’s never enough, she thought to him. Whatever time we have alone, it’s never enough, it’s not even close to being enough.

I know baby, I know angel, I know, it’s never enough, kiss me, kiss me-- and they crushed their mouths together again, not caring that Samuel could see them now, his bright-moon gaze skirting over them then politely away, though Kenzie knew that it was difficult for him, knew he thought they were bright as stars, beautiful beyond words, though she couldn’t have said how she knew, only that Samuel’s emotion towards them in this moment was starkly bright, as if he were speaking it out loud, and then Duncan was pulling her out of the car and she felt dazed, dazed as Jerry opened the door for them, his expression one of utter amazement, until Anchaly let out a barking laugh of complete joy towards them that startled her so she clutched at Duncan’s hand, suddenly shy and apprehensive of the small man.

“And the spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters,” Anchaly said, and Kenzie saw Duncan’s puzzled look as they walked past. His eyes were glittering.

“I feel like you speak in riddles sometimes, Anchaly,” Duncan was saying as he pressed the button of the elevator. He had gathered her train up in his hand again, holding it gently over his arm, and Kenzie blushed, suddenly feeling deeply self-conscious, as if she were being led up to an opulent throne where she’d be crowned a queen of some unknown kingdom. She kept looking down to examine the dress, unconvinced it was real, its golden sheen seeping into the corners of her vision.

“Some glories require the words of someone more skilled than I,” Anchaly replied. “You two seem to render me speechless to express my astonishment without some help.”

“Is that from Proverbs, Anchaly? From the Bible?” Kenzie remembered a Moby song that had a similar name to the words Anchaly had spoken.

“Indeed. God creating the waters when he made the world.”

The elevator dinged open.

“You two seem to be creating something, too. The beauty of your love seems to be growing.”

Duncan didn’t reply--he seemed unsure of what to say. Kenzie could see the blush around his eyes.

“Anchaly, Annette’s going to be dropping something off for me soon,” Kenzie called out to him as Duncan pulled her inside. “Please call up to the penthouse when she’s here, will you?”

She saw Anchaly’s nod, the glittering quality of his eyes flashing at her again, and then Duncan was clutching her against him again in the gold interior of the elevator, his fingers achingly delicate on the gold of her dress, and she was lost inside his attentions, lost, and it was everything she could do not to grind against his thigh pressing her into the elevator’s mirror, not to stare in wonder at the loveliness of the picture they cast there, she blushed to be so struck with wonder at her own beauty, blushed to be overcome so often by the rightness of how they looked together. We really do look like royalty, like Pilar said. The moment was gone too soon as the elevator seemed to climb 30 stories in no time at all, and Duncan gently pulled away from her, grasping the train and urging her out as she giggled at him, dragging her softly to the penthouse door, through with they could already hear the voices of Erik and the stylists inside. Rather than using his keycard Duncan knocked twice, lazily, on the door, then in a moment of abandon, grabbed hold of her waist and lifted her up into his mouth again, the taste of him dizzying her wildly, the half-hardness of his crotch pressing into her stomach. Then he was hurriedly bringing her back to earth, grinning at her as the door swung open and they broke apart to Erik’s judging gaze, his mouth pursed at them in their breathless state, his expression one of hidden delight masked by facetious scandal.

“Heeeeeeaven, I’m in heaven,” he sang, fluttering his eyelashes--they were very long with pink rhinestones today. “Just look at you two. As soon as you mentioned Morgan I knew she’d do both of you justice, Mackenzie. I can already see the headlines tomorrow: ‘DUCKENZIE STUNS IN GOLD, WE ALL HAVE TO WIPE OURSELVES OFF THE FLOOR’. Duncan, I brought Hannah and Georgio today. You remember them--they did you for the App release party. They’re going to lose their shit over her.” He extended his hand, beckoning to them languidly, moving back inside the penthouse, the long black cashmere poncho he wore drifting behind him. Duncan’s warm, large hand was on the skin just above the back of the dress, and Kenzie stepped away from his touch, feeling too overwhelmed by it to let it continue for now--I want you terribly, my love. I want you alone.

In the kitchen there was an array of picturesque snacks from the always well-stocked silver fridge and cupboards spread out; round rice crackers and two bricks of artisan swiss and gouda, salami rolled around tiny toothpicks, cubed mango, sliced green apple, bunches of grapes, organic hummus and pesto, bite-sized chopped purple cauliflower and celery sticks, and multiple open bottles of wine.

“We had to get the party started the right way, of course,” Erik simpered to Duncan, and Duncan smiled at him (that smile, kiss me, baby), unbothered, then at the two people seated at the obsidian island with recognition. Kenzie suddenly felt wildly shy again, fighting the urge to hide behind him, but he was pushing bright, warm blue feelings against her, circling her heart. “Hey, Hannah.” Hannah had very long, vaguely wavy hair that was a sort of lavender-grey, the kind of color that could only be achieved by a master hairstylist, one that usually only existed in superhero comics, and chopped bangs. She was ambiguously aged, perhaps in her early 30’s, with bright pink eyeshadow and an expertly contoured, round face. She wore a very long boho bronze-red jumpsuit with curling indigo detailing, and an array of long necklaces with varying crystals. Her skin was the color of milky coffee. The man beside her had long chocolatey hair streaked with natural gray, tied back into a bun at the back of his head, sharp, dark eyes, and an beard that was so well-cropped it seemed almost fake. He had silver rings on his fingers in the shapes of animal skulls, and wore a black denim jacket and black skinny jeans on his very thin frame. He had been talking to the woman in a very quiet, even voice, but she had begun to laugh loudly at something he said. “Hi Georgio, lovely to see you both again. This is Mackenzie Stone.”

“Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe Duckenzie are finally here!” The woman called Hannah immediately stopped laughing, dropping the morsel of gouda she’d been clutching in long coral-colored fingernails. Kenzie gawked at her. God, the Duckenzie thing is a trip. The woman got up from Duncan’s island and came around to her, her hands flitting down to Kenzie’s shoulders--she was at least six inches taller, and in bare feet. She smells really nice, like patchouli incense.

“God, you’re a little jewel,” and Hannah was pulling her into a hug, much to Kenzie’s surprise. “You smell like a rose bush. It’s obscene.”

“Hannah, I fucking told you,” Erik said. “Imagine the possibilities. An absolute babydoll.”

“Georgio,” the other man came up to her, grasping her fingers, leaning over them. “A pleasure to finally meet you in person, dear.” His voice remained very quiet and very even, removed from Hannah’s immediate enthusiasm.

“I do hair, Georgio does makeup,” Hannah was saying down to her. “This dress, Jesus fucking Christ, you’re like a Klimt painting, and Duncan, god, you always look incredible but this is next-level, nobody will be able to talk about anything else tomorrow, fuck, Georgio, we have to really outdo ourselves with this one.”

“I fucking agree.” Georgio was looking between Duncan and Kenzie with a hungry glint in his eye, as though he were a vulture about to swoop down onto a carcass. Kenzie shivered a little--I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way some people look at us when we’re together, she thought. It’s as though some people want to leave us candles and fruit and gold coins on an altar, and other people want to somehow consume us--rip out our hearts and gnaw on them with their teeth. Hannah is one of the former. This man Georgio is one of the latter. She watched his hungry, dark eyes float up and down on Duncan, and she was made conscious again, removed from her lover’s touch for the moment, of how incredibly beautiful Duncan was, how singularly, objectively handsome.

Back off honey, he’s mine. Kenzie couldn’t help it, she snorted into her hand suddenly at the force of her thought, the certainty of it, and Hannah looked down at her, puzzled.

“I was just thinking about how crazy all of this has been,” Kenzie murmured.

“I bet, honey. Your Instagrams are like the only thing anyone talks about anymore. You must have gotten like, a hundred endorsement offers by now.”

Duncan shrugged at her. “I don’t think we’ll be doing stuff like that, Hannah. Kenzie’s a writer.”

“I forgot, you’re a fucking billionaire,” Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “No pressing need to make more money.” I like this woman, Kenzie thought. We can be friends. “Little golden peach, come sit with me, I’m wild to start on you.” Hannah led Kenzie to the living room, where they’d set up two styling chairs with portable standing mirrors.

“Dunny, bring me some of those grapes, please? I’m fucking starving.” Kenzie called across to him. Duncan was watching her with a dazed expression, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Georgio continued watching him with the same hungry eyes. Duncan went to the island as Erik said something to him that Kenzie couldn’t hear--she was turning back to Hannah, who already had two flat pastel-colored styling clips in her fingers. Kenzie sat, looking up at the woman, angling her chin up.

“What do you think your hair should look like tonight, baby doll?”

Kenzie smiled at her. I really like her.

“Sometimes he calls me Persephone,” she said to Hannah in a low voice, as if she were telling the gray-haired woman a secret. Hannah was leaning down to her, listening eagerly. The woman seemed to have an almost rosy aura around her, like the pink blush of a desert sunrise.

“Goddess of spring,” Hannah nodded. “Which would make him Hades, God of the Underworld. That seems right to me. And you brought your flowers down to him in the darkness, didn’t you, sweetness.” Hannah’s hand brushed through the wave of hair that fell over Kenzie’s shoulder. “I think we should put flowers in your hair. And then everyone will see who you really are. Not just your gold, but the way love is blooming all around you.”

Duncan was coming over to them with a bunch of grapes and some of the cheese and round crackers on a little plate and one of his Waterford glasses full of a dry rose, leaning the plate down to Kenzie’s lap, dipping his face to kiss her (thanks baby, she whispered into his mind) as he handed her the wine, then he straightened and said “I’m putting on some music for us, any requests?”

“Something sexy,” Erik said, holding up his wine glass, full of dark red. “I need some mood music to look at you two.”

Duncan smirked at him and turned away, into his study.

“Hannah, have you seen The Youth of Bacchus?” Kenzie spoke to the woman from a mouth of grapes. “It’s in Duncan’s study there, it’s so amazing, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I just wanted to die the first time I saw it.”

“I saw it the last time I was here, we styled Duncan for an event a few months ago,” Hannah had already busily begun to slide clips into Kenzie’s long tawny hair, clearly used to working around people eating. “It’s really extraordinary. I can’t imagine how crazy everything has been for you lately, honey.”

“It’s--” Hannah was dividing her hair into segments now with a thin comb, turning to a set of portable drawers near the standing mirror. “It’s been so surreal, honestly. It feels like I’ve been walking around in a dream for the past few weeks. But most people have been so lovely.”

“I bet Annette’s a fucking handful.” Kenzie heard a funky electronic beat come over the hidden speakers as Hannah’s quick hands worked at her hair, spraying primer through it, brushing it out. I ain’t got no money, I’m not like those other guys you hang around, it’s kinda funny, but they always seem to let you down…

“Yes.” Kenzie didn’t even try to hide her frustration. “Yes, she fucking is.”

Hannah snorted, grinning at her as Duncan reemerged from the study.

“Yes, honey, yes indeed,” Erik was saying to him as Duncan sat in the other styling chair beside Kenzie, Georgio immediately attacking his stubbled cheeks with moisturizer, then primer. “Prince’s self-titled is his most underrated creation, I do believe. Pure sex from beginning to end.”

“Erik, I hope this isn’t too great for a favor for someone as important as you, but could you bring me the wine glass I left over there?” Duncan glanced up at Erik with a long, languid gaze, and Kenzie giggled. Laying it on thick, baby. I like to watch you do that, she realized. Because I know you’re always mine now, and all they can do is pine after you.

Erik gave him a pleased look and brought the wine to him. “Anything for Prince Duncan,” he cooed. I feel the same way, and Kenzie’s thought flashed to his eyes staring at her in the MIrror as he fucked her, her arms tied in velvet ribbon, flashed to his mouth between her legs with her arms tied to the headboard with his belt, to her back against the cherrywood table as he kneeled to her, her body arching into his elegant, strong fingers in the dark, the white-blue glow of his eyes. Anything for you, beloved. Anything.

“I’m gonna need fresh rosebuds for Kenzie’s hair, Duncan,” Hannah said, glancing at him.

Duncan made a little sound of longing in the back of his throat that made Kenzie’s stomach flip. Oh my fucking god, baby, I’ll get you roses to wear in your hair every day. And your peonies are starting to wilt, too. Kenzie glanced at the coffee table, noticing with a twinge of sadness that he was right. Prince wailed over their heads as Duncan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sent a few quick text messages to Anchaly for the concierge. “Hannah, what do you need?” I wanna be your lover, I wanna be the only one that makes you come, running...Georgio’s hand was on his cheek as though it were made of delicate glass, holding Duncan’s head steady as he worked around his blue eyes with a tiny eyeshadow brush.

Hannah reached for his phone with an insistent hand and typed out a text, handing it back to him. “As young as they have would be best. And the darkest red. Fit for a queen.”

“Roses for Kenzie’s hair, roses for Kenzie, check.” Duncan glanced over at her, his eyes (the sky of you, the storm of you building for me) falling from hers down her gown, then back up. His tongue slowly came out to lick against his top lip, and the gesture seemed to be involuntary, so open to her, so desirous of her, as he sometimes was in the sanctity of their bed. Our bed, our room, my favorite place on earth now when you’re there, she could hear him, knew his thoughts drifted into the same place hers did, needy with the weight of their nights.

“Georgio, did you hear what Mackenzie told me a minute ago? Duncan calls her Persephone sometimes. Hence the roses.”

“Way ahead of you, Hannah,” Georgio said, then, “Close your eyes, please, Duncan,” and Kenzie watched him swirl the brush in a palette behind him, then begin to darken Duncan’s eyelids to deep black. My Hades. Gold in the darkness. It’s not just me, baby. It’s us together. My gold kisses your darkness, your darkness holds my gold. One without the other is not enough. One without the other is not whole.

“God, I love it,” Hannah was murmuring as she began to whirl Kenzie’s hair around a ceramic curling iron, from its soft natural waves into more carefully constructed ones. She began to switch between curling strands of Kenzie’s chestnut-blonde hair and weaving a very loose french braid down Kenzie’s back, until her hair seemed to be a very intricate web of falling braids and artfully arranged loose waves, though Kenzie couldn’t see it from the back yet. Duncan’s already luminously handsome face was now darkly striking in the shadow around his eyes, the gold of the jacket juxtaposing with the black and the blue of his corneas to an effect that took Kenzie’s breath away. God of riches, shadows, and my heart.

“God, baby, you look so good. So fucking good.”

“I agree,” Hannah was grinning between them, still fussing over Kenzie’s hair. At the back she’d created a slight bump and long waves fell around Kenzie’s face. The doorbell chimed through the penthouse and Erik went to the door from where he’d been lazily eating apple slices and downing glass after glass of wine. A delivery man stood there with a long white box--Erik took it from him and brought it over to the low leather couch, lifting the lid. Within were a dozen sprigs of burgundy-dark rose buds, and a bouquet of a two-dozen full-stem roses in the same color.

“Oh sugar, I wish a billionaire who looks like an angel would buy me flowers every day,” Erik said longingly.

“Gimme, please,” Kenzie begged, reaching her arms out. Erik brought them to her from where Hannah was holding her captive, and Kenzie lifted the bouquet to her face in their softness, feeling tears welling up. “Dunny, I love them so much.” Duncan was smiling at her with a dreamy expression around his darkly shadowed eyes. We’ll take them with us to the cabin. We’ll put them beside our bed. I love you, Kenzie.

I love you, too, Duncan. I’ll save so many wildflowers while we’re there to hang over our bed here. We’ll bring the roses with us, and bring the forest back with us, Kenzie’s eyes rested in his, her hand stretching out to him, almost involuntarily. Duncan stood and came to her, Georgio having finished his work, leaning against the standing mirror, observing with a sharp, dark gaze. Duncn crouched down beside her chair, bringing his face up to press his nose into the roses she held, then up to her cheek and against her lips, and Kenzie’s body tingled with the softness and sweetness of him, the darkly beautiful dramatic cast of his face in the eyeshadow. He drew back from her, eyes lifting up to the others behind her--neither of them had realized for the beat of the moments that Erik, Hannah and Georgio were all staring at the two of them with observant, rapt expressions, Hannah’s almost pious, Erik’s joyous, Georgio’s openly desirous. The first side of Prince had ended, and the quiet had settled around them.

“God, you two are lovely,” Hannah breathed, breaking the spell. “I could watch you all day. I’ve never seen a couple so beautiful. It’s like you’re communicating without words.”

At that moment the downstairs buzzer beside the penthouse door trilled, making Kenzie jump. We are, Hannah. But no one knows that but us. And we want to keep it that way. It belongs to us. Duncan stepped away from Kenzie, clutching her hand for a moment. I bet that’s Annette, Kenzie thought, biting into her lip. Annette’s text had been strange, a frantic tone underneath her overly-polite request to see Kenzie. Please accept this gift as a token of my blessing, she’d said, and Kenzie had known Annette distress was coming solely from Duncan’s silence to her, but nevertheless, the prospect of actually gaining Annette’s approval by any means was tempting, especially since she’d softened to Kenzie at the Rose Garden. Duncan went to the door, hitting a button below the panel and speaking into it.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Shepherd, Annette is here.”

Duncan looked over at Kenzie, a pained expression immediately falling over his face. Baby, it’s okay, Kenzie thought to him. I’ll go downstairs. I won’t take long. I’m not afraid of her.

“Anchaly, Kenzie’s coming down,” he said, turning back to the speaker. “Do not send up her up.”

“Very well, Mr. Shepherd.” Anchaly’s voice sounded strained.

Kenzie rose, carefully tucking the cascade of the gold train over her arm, setting the roses in her seat gently. “Hannah, Georgio, I won’t be long, this should only take a few minutes.” Be brave, for him, even if you don’t feel it, because Duncan needs you to be. She walked carefully past Erik, who was giving her a dark look, a don’t let her fuck with you look, to Duncan, whose eyes were clouded behind the dark eyeshadow, suddenly lost inside the turmoil of his emotions.

“Baby, look at me,” she whispered to him, reaching for his hands. As she grasped them Kenzie could feel that he was shaking; feel the immediate change in his mood, the dark shadow that had settled on him, the one that had made him cry in her arms yesterday, the one that had sent his sadness out to her over miles. “We’re going to get through tonight, then we’re going to go away together, just me and you. Okay? And you won’t have to see her, okay? Not until you’re ready. Forget about everyone else.” And Kenzie, in that moment, resolved to do the same herself. Forget about them. About the paps, about Annette’s judgement, about the eyes watching us now, and anyone else who will try to hurt us tonight. When I have you, I’m fearless, invincible, you are my armor of blue flames, I am your armor of weightless gold. And they can’t hurt us.

Duncan brought his mouth down to her, and his lips trembled too, though with the tumult of his emotions or his desire she couldn’t decipher, so jumbled were the two strains of feeling in him. Kenzie gently brought her hand up to his hair and his arms came around her back, lifting her into him, and Kenzie couldn’t help but hear the sighs that came from Erik and Hannah behind her, the sighs that sounded to her like the wings of angels rustling in some holy silent hall, and she soothed him with paper-thin gold, feeling his heart settling down to a steadier rhythm, feeling the trembling in him drift out, into the ether.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and let go of him, staring at him for another moment, seeing the way her energy had calmed him, his eyes bright again amid the gold-and-dark sheen of his shape, and Kenzie snapped the door open and walked, determined, to the elevator.

-------

Annette was standing in the foyer when Kenzie arrived downstairs, her expression strained and softly troubled, the usual anger in her eyes towards Kenzie missing. She was nervously fidgeting with something in her hands--a squarish, flat velvet box.

As Kenzie’s eyes drifted over Duncan’s mother, she was struck by the other woman yet again: Annette’s coppery-dark hair was pulled back in an elegantly distressed bun, a few strands arranged artfully around her slender cheekbones, her naturally beautiful face made more exquisite with soft makeup tones, a roseate sheen on her cheeks and mouth, a pale olive around her eyes, reminding Kenzie of the blossoms and vines of some pink flower in bloom, of a cheek pressed against a garden wall. Annette’s dress was flowing saffron-colored satin, falling to the ground and shrouding her feet, long sleeves to her wrists (she was wearing one ring, a gold band on her left index finger with a round, yellow-colored topaz stone), a deep V exposing the dip between her small breasts, a string of tiny, perfectly-shaped (and likely priceless) iridescent pearls around her slender throat. As Kenzie stepped closer she could see there were small golden flowers falling throughout the dress, like bursts of pollen reflected in a sunrise. Annette turned her head down for a moment, her eyes closing, and Kenzie noticed there were pearls stranded through her hair as well. She is so beautiful. This woman who adopted Duncan so many years ago. Where did she find him? Who did she claim him from? Who is this woman really, this woman who has kept the truth of him from him for his entire life? I can see her loveliness that has been hidden beneath her shadow, like I could see his right away. It took longer to see hers. But I’ve begun to see it. But her shadow is strong. It’s consumed her for many years.

Anchaly had, somehow, blessedly, vacated the front desk, and Jerry was standing outside the glass doors in the balmy summer night, smoking a cigarette, staring down at his phone. There was no one else in the foyer, and no sound except soft classical music pumping from the speakers, the gold-embossed chairs and couch, lush persian rugs and expensive potted plants their only company.

“Annette,” Kenzie said, reaching her, remaining a few steps away. Annette was looking at her with a pained expression now--an expression Kenzie had never seen. Now that she was closer, she could see there were lines under Annette’s eyes, of tiredness and distress. I don’t think she slept at all last night, Kenzie realized. Because of Duncan. Because she knows how devastated he is.

“Oh, Mackenzie.” Kenzie’s nerves shattered as she saw the tears in Annette’s eyes, saw the girl within Duncan’s mother again, and was moved by her. “You...you are so lovely. I--I’m--”

Annette trailed off, raising the box in her hands out to Kenzie. She seemed to steel something within herself for a moment, force her tears back, force them back into the secret place where Annette Shepherd had been storing pain for decades, and her eyes fluttered closed again, then opened to Kenzie’s--Kenzie felt for a moment that she could almost see her own eyes reflected there, see the green and russet and the gold of herself, see how Annette could see her in this moment. Like an effigy of the Holy Mother, Annette was thinking, and it shook Kenzie to the core of her body to know that. But before she was a mother--when she was young and wild, and free, and the most beloved of all in the eyes of God. There is no wonder that he loves her. My Duncan. My darling boy. I’m sorry.

“I found this a few days ago while I was going through some of the remainders of Adelaide’s--my mother’s--possessions,” and Annette now used the voice of her outward self again, even, carefully measured. “I knew when I saw it that it was meant to be yours. I’d be--I’d--if you would accept it, Mackenzie...I’d be grateful.” Annette closed her mouth, as if by the action she could close off the tide of her emotions rising again with it. Kenzie stepped closer, watching Annette’s eyes rove up and down the exquisite gold of her dress, into her eyes, skirting away. She reached her hands out and Duncan’s mother (for she is Duncan’s mother after all--she loves him with her life, and she didn’t tell him because she couldn’t bear the thought that he isn’t hers, because she loves him as strongly as if he is--her love is true and blinding for him) lowered the box carefully into them, and their hands touched, and Kenzie looked up at her again, then opened it.

Within was a circlet band of braided gold, its strands leading down to a matte red ruby surrounded by an oval of almost two dozen tiny, perfect diamonds. On either side of the oval were three gold leaves, each set with two diamonds each. I can’t imagine how much this is worth, Kenzie thought, her breath trapped in her lungs. This must be priceless.

“I--I can’t--” Kenzie struggled to speak. How can I accept this?

“Please, Mackenzie. I’ve been--I know I’ve been--” Annette seemed to be losing the strands of her composure, her hands fidgeting in front of her, clutching at the pearls around her neck. “I know I’ve been terrible to you. I have no right to ask you for anything. But please, Duncan--Duncan won’t speak to me, and I--”

Be the golden goddess Duncan sees in you, Kenzie. Be fearless and kind.

“He needs time.”

Kenzie evened her gaze on Annette; lowered the necklace in its velvet box in her hands, but brought it closer to her body, accepting. She lifted her chin.

“He’s very hurt. Keeping the truth from him for so long--it’s wounded him deeply. And I don’t know how long he’s going to need. But I know he needs time.” Kenzie watched Annette’s face, the subtle shift of the pain there. “After tonight, we’re going away for awhile--maybe a few days, maybe a week. And when we get back, I think he’ll be ready to talk to you. But until then, I don’t think he wants to. I don’t think he can. Annette, I will accept this from you...if you can accept that.”

Annette’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and she seemed on the edge of tears again. She dipped her head, eyes closing again, the lengthening afternoon light spilling across her face--despite everything, Kenzie thought, I love her still.

“Please tell him I’m--how sorry I am. And that I love him. More than anything. More than my own life. And I--I love you also, Mackenzie. I do. I’m sorry to you, too.”

Annette reached out one shaking hand, pressing it gently to the side of Kenzie’s arm, her other hand coming up to hover near Kenzie’s cheek--but that hand continue to hover rather than touch, as if afraid. Then Annette turned without another word, and left the foyer. Jerry held the door out for her, and Kenzie could see a Mercedes parked on the curb, the tall, imposing form of Becket coming out to open the door of the car for her, and Annette slipped inside, and the car drove away.

I guess it’s a good thing Georgio didn’t do my makeup yet, Kenzie thought. Tears, hot and aching and bitter, coursed down her cheeks as she stepped toward the elevator, and they continued to fall all the way back up to the penthouse, the velvet box clutched in her trembling fingers.

------

She immediately saw the pall that fell over Duncan’s face as she came back into the penthouse--strains of Beethoven played quietly now, Duncan’s cheerful mood clearly affected by Annette’s arrival. He knew she’d been crying. He was sitting in the styling chair again, Hannah pressing product through his waves of dark-copper hair, and he launched himself from her fingers as Kenzie closed the door with one hand, the box clutched in the other, running up to her, clutching her against him. Kenzie closed her eyes, immediately soothed in the enveloping weight of his embrace--there’s nothing else on earth as wonderful as this, baby, as wonderful as being held by you. This is the only thing.

“Baby, what happened? What did she do?” Duncan pulled her away, turning her chin up to him, his hand drifting back to cradle around her ear, his eyes full of clouded anger at Annette’s perceived ills.

“She just--she’s sorry. She loves you. She wants to talk to you. I told her we’re going away for a few days. I told her you’re not ready to talk to her yet but--but maybe you will be when we get back. And she gave me this.” Kenzie felt more tears fall down her cheeks as she lifted the box up to him. Duncan took it with fingers that were shaking again--his eyes roved over the necklace with recognition as he opened the box.

“This was Adelaide’s, wasn’t it,” he whispered. “I remember it. I would touch it when she pulled me into her lap when I was little. I wanted to eat the ruby, you know--how you want to eat everything when you’re little--” and Kenzie knew the steady stream of words was to keep himself from crying, from becoming overwhelmed.

“Shhhh, baby,” she soothed. “Will you help me put it on?”

Duncan quieted and nodded to her, his eyes glittering (like sapphire). He lifted the necklace from the velvet box, setting the latter aside on the island, and Kenzie turned, lifting her chin so he could clasp it around her neck--his fingers were warm, almost hot, and her eyes fluttered open and closed at the feeling of them brushing against her (your touch is heaven to me, heaven) and then he gripped at her shoulders, his mouth coming down to kiss her ear, turning her easily, her weight nothing in his arms, and his gaze fell over her neck and his lips drifted open, his eyes opening and closing (nebulas), and Kenzie could see a kind of peace fall over him, as if she and Adelaide were somehow able to meet now, after all.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, and she nodded, her chin turned up to him. “Adelaide would have loved for you to have it.”

Kenzie felt desperate to be close to him, desperate for him to hold her, suddenly, in a dark place where no eyes could reach them, where they could be naked and taste each other with abandon, with only the moon to see. My One. I want to comfort you in the privacy of our room so very much. She pulled his face down to hers carefully, pressing her forehead to his, and pushed golden waves down into him, pushed with all her strength, all her love, all her longing, and she felt his body relax against hers, like a sigh, though he was silent. She closed her eyes, knowing his were closed too, knowing they could see each other without needing to look--she could see the blue waves of him melting behind the darkness of her lids, could see the iridescent gold she had given him. All good things come in time. We just have to get through tonight. Then we’ll be able to comfort each other, my love. Comfort each other for days. He nodded against her skin, and Kenzie knew he heard.

They broke apart, and she looked over to Hannah, Erik and Georgio, watching her and Duncan with mouths agape again, not speaking to each other. She made eye contact with Erik, who drank off the rest of the wine in his glass, giving her a good-natured eyeroll.

“You two make me wanna get drunk,” he said, waving a hand toward them. “I’m raging with jealousy and arousal.” Kenzie noticed someone had put her roses in another of Duncan’s gold vases in the center of the kitchen island, and she looked at them gratefully.

“Mackenzie, come sit, we have a lot to do still,” Hannah said, tapping the styling chair, and Kenzie glanced back at Duncan (baby, come sit with me, please?) and he nodded to her, going back to the kitchen island and pouring himself another glass of wine as Kenzie sat before Hannah and Georgio, who both attacked her with new gusto--Hannah began to rapidly pin the rosebuds through the back of her hair, while Georgio began to rub different substances into her face with cool hands, his eyes intent on her, making her immediately shy.

“Where did you two meet, anyway?” Hannah asked, using a slender, long pair of blunt tweezers to pull the buds into the braids and strands she’d created at the back of Kenzie’s head.

Kenzie was quiet for a moment, glancing at Duncan who was bringing another glass of wine around to her, nestling it gently into her hand.

“It was a Republican party for PAC donors.”

He gave Kenzie a mischievous smirk, then settled into the chair beside her, but not before dragging it closer to her, veering around Georgio and Hannah with abandon, dipping his long legs under her gold platform heels and propping her feet up under him, his hand coming around to her knee. Kenzie knew he was craving her touch desperately--she could feel the need coming off him toward her, the ache in him for the comfort only her touch brought him (only you, his thoughts were whirling in circles, just you, your hands, your skin, you, I need you and they’ll have to deal with it) and she wanted to press her hand against his throat and taste him with her eager mouth, straddle him and tease him until he was begging for her, and she pressed her hand down onto his, sending the tendrils of these thoughts to him as he spoke again to Hannah, glancing at her with burning eyes.

“She was undercover, recording tidbits of juicy conversation for her article--of course, I didn’t know that until later. Not that I think it would have mattered to me. I was wishing I was literally anywhere else, out on the balcony, hiding from everyone, and she appeared. I thought I’d been knocked into a dream. She was wearing this tiny black velvet dress and these golden sandals that tied up her ankle, and had this necklace, and her hair--”

“Ugh, Duncan, stop--”

“Duncan, do not stop,” Hannah grinned at her, soothing her hands against Kenzie’s temples to hold her head still as Kenzie jerked it towards Duncan, then resumed rapidly dipping the tweezers through the back of her hair. Kenzie could see her face through the mirror, how Georgio was applying dark russet liner to her brows, and a heavy black eyeliner to her upper lids, giving her gaze a high drama.

“Hannah, I would have done literally anything to get her to go home with me. I mean--fucking anything.”

“And all you had to do was buy me a drink. I’m a cheap date,” Kenzie smiled up at Hannah, who laughed a little.

“I can imagine it didn’t take much convincing for either of you,” she said, stepping back from Kenzie’s hair to examine her handiwork. “You’re both--well. At the risk of embarrassing myself by using an antiquated standard, separately, you’re both 10s. Together? Fuck. The scale is fucking broken. Most people would claw each other’s eyes out if it meant they got to stand in your orbit, and I’m not one for flattery. Miss Mackenzie Stone, I do believe you’re ready for the Gala.”

Georgio had stepped back at well, in his silent, appraising way, a round brush still in his hand from applying light, rosy matte blush to Kenzie’s cheeks. He’d made her lips dark red, not quite as burgundy as the roses in her hair, but a deep claret that made her mouth look like a ripe fruit. Kenzie couldn’t stop herself; her breath caught as she gazed at herself, the dramatic angle the light threw on her face, the ruby and diamonds glittering right in the dip of her throat, the gold shimmer of her dress wrapped around her like a second skin.

“Turn around, baby, look,” Duncan urged her, his hand softly drifting against hers, Hannah bringing a little handheld mirror down into her hands to see the back of her hair, which was now a breathtaking array of dancing burgundy red buds, falling in a drifting, wild cascade from the artful arrangement Hannah had created.

“God, you really do look like a painting,” Hannah breathed and Erik was standing back in a pose of admiration, another glass of wine dangling at the end of one arm. He laughed in delight.

“Forget everyone else, darlings, I’ll be following you two around all night.”

Duncan groaned. “Please, no. I want her all to myself.” His hand was drifting up from her thigh to where she had turned towards the study to see her back in the mirror, his fingers falling against the buds, and his thoughts were dark red too, dark red with need for her, and Kenzie could feel the fall of them, almost see herself in his gaze for a moment, feel the pulse of his arousal, the memory in him of the feeling of her clit on his tongue, the ache in him to taste her again, his body shivering to remember the sensitive cavity between her legs, the tightness of her ass--Kenzie tried to swallow, tried to breathe, felt her heart pounding insanely at his touch and the intensity of his need against her in this moment, turning from the mirror to look into his burning gaze, and Hannah and Georgio seemed to somehow sense that their time together was ending; Georgio was gathering his makeup with clipped order, Hannah wrapping the curling iron up, tossing pins into the drawers. Erik was languidly pressing a finger to his phone, calling a private Uber.

“I want you so much,” Duncan had dipped his head to her, his mouth shivering against her ear, kissing down under it as he quieted, as if he deigned to think it rather than speak it aloud, as if he wanted to speak it, needed to, had to or he’d scream instead, and his hands were at her waist, feeling with insistent strength, damning the others, ignoring them. Kenzie’s skin tingled with flushed, radiant heat, her thoughts hazy, suddenly, the cool gold of the necklace pressing into her throat and making her cunt twinge, Duncan’s drifting hands making it twinge again, making her breath catch and burst out in a gasp. Make them go away, baby, she thought, and said aloud to Hannah and Georgio, turning away from him, “Thank you so much--both of you--I can’t say how wonderful--”

“Miss Mackenzie Stone, it was my honor,” Hannah said, her smile lit with warmth that shattered into Kenzie’s heart like an arrow. This woman has a beautiful soul. It gave her as much joy to do this for us as I have now to see the masterpiece she’s created for me. “Hoo boy. I think I’m a Duckenzie now too. Better sign up on that website. Did you two see that? Duckenzie Fans, or whatever it’s called?”

Duncan was laughing, nodding a little, dipping his chin down against the palm of his hand, crooked on his knee, his other hand still on Kenzie’s thigh. “Yeah. It’s something. We met the girls who run it, they can’t be out of high school yet. Kenzie was so lovely to them, it was all over the tabloids. She’s so lovely to people. Makes it easy for me to just stand there and say nothing.”

He was smiling at Kenzie again, his hand drifting, his fingers tightening on her, his thoughts clashing through her like the warm rain that had soaked them a few days ago--I wanna be alone with you now baby love, goddess from heaven, I wanna press that plug into you and whisper into your skin all the things I’m going to do to you later, I want you to force that ring onto me and fuck I’m already getting hard for you, my cock is already aching for you, angel--

Georgio was giving them a glittering look again, that wanton desire still blatant.

“If you two ever wanna think outside the box, I have this group I meet with sometimes in Prince William Forest,” he said evenly.

What the fuck does that mean, Kenzie balked. Like an orgy?

Yes, Kenz, that’s what he means. Duncan had half-rolled his eyes at Georgio’s statement, his thumb drifting soothingly over Kenzie’s knuckles.

“I don’t think so, Georgio, thank you.”

“Suit yourselves. You’d certainly be the center of attention.”

“No, thanks, Georgio.”

Erik was pressing a hand into Georgio’s black-clad back, smiling down at him serenely, batting his eyelashes, ushering the thin man towards the door. Hannah dipped down to Kenzie and hugged her around the neck, gently, careful not to muss the flowers in her hair.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” she whispered into Kenzie’s ear. “I hope to see you again sometime, Miss Stone.”

“Call me Kenzie, please?”

“Kenzie. It was an absolute delight. I can’t wait to see your photos literally everywhere tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Hannah,” Kenzie grasped the gray-haired woman’s hand and steadied her mind, whisking her psyche away from Duncan--and pressed gold tendrils down into Hannah, morsels of light, drifts of her good will. She watched a serene, doleful expression come into Hannah’s brown eyes, then she let go, and Hannah drifted away from her, still staring at her for a long moment. Erik was pushing Georgio out the door, and called out behind him, “I’ll see you in an hour or so, darlings, I can’t wait to meet the infamous Madeline Stone!” Hannah hesitated for the span of a few seconds, she and Kenzie still staring at each other across the room, pulling her portable drawers behind her on the little wheels attached to the bottom.

Hannah, bright blessings to you. Today, and for the days to come, for you.

Kenzie watched the other woman’s face, watched what seemed to be the glitter of a tear on her cheek--then Hannah waved a little to both of them, and pulled the big black door to the penthouse shut as she left.

Suddenly, the penthouse was quiet, and it was only the two of them. The light had begun to fade--it was almost 7 now, and night was beginning to fall. Kenzie glanced over at the Bouguereau prints on the wall, feeling Duncan’s eyes on her, feeling the blue of his thoughts kissing against her mind. The evening mood, she thought, and turned to him again.

Yes, my Kenzie. The evening mood is here. Come to the bedroom with me. He was standing, gently twining his fingers into hers, grasping onto her train and bringing it over his arm with supine grace, the melted gold of his jacket glowing in the twilight that had suddenly surrounded them. The energy inside her was humming now, building to a kind of frenzied rhythm, and Kenzie could see the full moon beginning to rise as they passed the picture window, see its corn-yellow face from last night had not faded, rather sharpened into a bewitching visage, like a sleeping maiden in a field of night-lit grasses.

“I feel like a princess,” she whispered to him as they entered the bedroom, and Duncan was closing the door behind them, closing it to the world--and then he was pressing against her, pressing her into their Mirror with an aching softness that made her mind leap into a static of feeling, thoughts bleeding out into nothing but his mouth on hers, nothing but his hands on the gold braid at her neck, then his fingers along her collarbones, then clutching at her shoulders, the smooth gold cups at her breasts.

“You are a princess,” he was whispering between their kisses, and Kenzie fought to breathe, “you’re my fucking Princess, you’re my fucking Goddess, you’re mine, aren’t you, my angel on earth, you’ll give yourself to me, baby, won’t you--”

“Fuck, yes, you know I will, baby,” she moaned into him, the tips of his hot fingers refusing to press more harshly into her, his blue gaze heavy-lidded, looking down on her from the dark shadow around them now, waiting teasingly for her answer. “Fuck, get my plug for me, please, baby--”

“Shhh, Kenzie, go get your coconut oil, okay?”

“Uh huh,” she murmured, and turned away from him, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up, flush with goosebumps. Kenzie pressed a hand between her breasts as she stepped carefully to the bathroom, serenely quiet and spotlessly clean, feeling her heart racing--she could see her jar of coconut oil on the edge of the sink, and took it with trembling hands. She tried to imagine telling Kenzie from a year ago about this night--you’ll be going to a Gala attended by the richest people in DC, and you’ll look like an angel, and your boyfriend is Duncan Shepherd, and he’s going to push your plug into your ass beforehand and you’re going to make him wear a cock ring and you’re going to edge each other to death all night and then, hopefully, you’re going to fuck each other into tomorrow morning, Kenzie, and you can hear each other’s thoughts, see the depth of his love for you like the swirling center of a fire--

Kenzie swallowed, stared at herself in the darkened mirror of the bathroom for a moment, almost not recognizing herself for a moment--I really do look like a goddess, she thought. I really fucking do. Be that fearless goddess tonight, Kenzie Lou. Just pretend she is you. For tonight, you are her. You’re a goddess.

Kenzie brought the oil out in hands she willed not to shake, and Duncan was standing by the Mirror, looking at himself curiously, appraisingly, the ring clutched in one hand, her plug in the other. He turned to her, and his smile melted her heart into sweet butter.

“Me first,” she whispered. “I want you to do me first, baby.”

Duncan’s eyes darkened (your storm, my sweet god of shadows) and beckoned to her with one elegantly crooked finger.

“Come here, angel.” Whatever Hannah had done to his hair, she’d made it so his beautiful curls were now even more striking than usual, the fall of them seeming impossible to her eyes in this light, their loveliness ethereal, and she saw him as inhuman again for a moment as she fell into his arms--saw him as as a god made of stars and ink-dark sky. You are the god to my goddess tonight, aren’t you, and their mouths came together in another aching kiss, his tongue brushing down into her, and then he was turning her to face the Mirror, turning her so his stomach pressed insistently into her back. He pressed the cock ring into her fingers, taking the oil away, and she gripped its smooth silicone surface, her heart bursting. Give me all your need, baby, make me feel it, remind me that I belong to you. He opened the oil, dipping his fingers into it, eyes focused on her--Kenzie could see her mouth hung open, her breath coming out in ragged bursts, her face glowing with the lovely makeup--I am going to be so gentle with you, baby, but you won’t get to come yet and no one will know your ache for me, no one will know your secret tonight but me, his eyes said, and then he was dipping the plug into it too, and Kenzie’s cunt and ass twinged sharply, and she sucked her breath in, unable to stop the whimper of the moan that fell out of her. But you’ll be thinking of it all night, as I’ll be thinking of my ache for you.

“Please,” she said, and pressed her hands against the Mirror, leaning just a little, ever so little, to give herself to him. Duncan leaned to set the oil on the dark wood--then, he carefully pressed the hem of Kenzie’s golden dress up with a twisting motion, so it fell up and over her hips, exposing the black lace of the panties she wore underneath the opulent gown. Kenzie could feel the damp, cool pressure of his finger tips at the line of her panties now, and with another quick motion Duncan pulled them down so they hovered around her thighs above her knees--he leaned down over her so his face came up beside her ear, and Kenzie cried out to him as she felt his fingers dip into her ass, first his index, then his middle finger beside it, stretching her.

“Kenzie, babydoll,” he whispered into her ear, and Kenzie leaned back, her mind needy, into his fingers, longing for him to press against her clit, knowing with anguished disappointment that he wouldn’t, not yet, not now. “My sweet baby, my angel of roses. Mine. You can’t take this out until I say you can. Promise me you won’t.”

Kenzie felt his fingers leave her and she was desperate for the loss--”Unng, baby, please, I won’t, I promise I won’t--” she whined, biting into her lip, unafraid in this moment with him, unafraid to show him the desperation of her want for him. “Please put it inside me.”

She sighed with relief as his hand came around her throat, gripping so his fingers pressed possessive divots into her skin, then a long, keening cry melted out of her and his fingers tightened at her neck as she felt the plug’s bulbous head, slick with oil, rest for a long, terrible second against the pucker of her ass, then slide with aching pressure and his strong insistence inside her, guided by his pliant fingers. His hand lingered, fingers pressing around the dip of her ass below where the plug was now snugly tethered, as if to ensure that it was tightly in place, and Kenzie was gasping, gasping at the terrible twinging need of her cunt, the throbbing of her clit, aching to be touched by him there, aching for him alone to give her release, her hands still pressed into the Mirror, his dark-shadowed eyes piercing her with their expectant lust. O Hades, my Hades, kiss me, then let me cage you, and in your cage, think only of me, your Queen of Roses, caged for you by your hand.

“My turn, baby,” he whispered, and crouched down to pull her panties back up snugly to her waist, his fingers drifting over her hips, cupping her ass cheeks, then carefully pulling her golden gown back over her legs, using the hand that hadn’t probed into her--he’s so careful, Kenzie thought, I know how much you want me in this moment, and yet still you’re so careful, so neat, afraid to ruin my gown, my Prince. As Kenzie shifted she could feel the twinge of the plug’s weight against the sensitive cavity of her ass, and she felt her knees buckle for a moment, her thighs tingling, her neck longing for the press of his hand again. Want it there always, my Prince, my sweet Hades, your scent like the wild wood of night. She pulled him down to her mouth, laving her tongue out into him, and Duncan moaned with piteous need, and Kenzie felt the long tendriled gold of her need reach out for him in turn, demanding.

“Put your hands at your sides, baby. You’re not allowed to move them.”

Duncan immediately did as she said, his eyes smoldering in the darkening bedroom, his mouth open to her, his thoughts afire with her. God, baby, I am fucking dying for you, you’re so fucking beautiful, not touching you is like torture, I’m yours, I beg you, please, touch me, baby.

You are truly the most beautiful boy I have ever seen, Kenzie thought. And you are fucking mine. You’re mine, baby. Your beautiful cock belongs to me.

“I know this is going to make you ache terribly tonight,” Kenzie said, evening her tone just above a whisper. “But you have to be good. You can’t touch yourself, you can’t take it off.” She knelt very slowly in the opulent gown, her back to the Mirror now, dipping her head so he could see the way she was prostrate for him, her head looking up at him, the cascade of her rosebud-brindled hair arrayed for him in its loveliness. Duncan closed his eyes, and she felt how overcome he was, how lost in the sight of her, and it thrilled her--that’s fucking right, Prince Duncan, your Persephone kneels before you now, and you will promise her you will allay your pleasure until she has need of it, and Kenzie could see the dip of his crotch had grown in the low light--she lifted her hands up and undid the button at his groin carefully, unzipping his pants, pulling down the waistband of his body-tight briefs to bring one of her slender hands against the bottom of the shaft of his growing cock, pulling it out decisively, and Duncan’s breath hitched, his head falling back, his adam’s apple bobbing in the light, making Kenzie want to pull him down to her so she could press her mouth against him there. She focused, instead, on his thick length, the veins of his sex suddenly beautiful to her, the head of his cock a roundness that she longed to dip into her mouth, a sliding droplet of precum glittering there. Instead, Kenzie lifted her hand away--Duncan moaned, dejected with the loss of her, and she could see his hands shaking at his sides--then she picked up the ring from where she’d carefully laid it by her knee, dipping her fingertips into the oil, slathering them along the circular interior of the toy.

Then, Kenzie dipped one of her hands into the oil again, and quickly brought it up, before Duncan could prepare himself, to the low hardness of his cock--she slathered the oil along him from head to base and Kenzie watched with satisfaction, feeling the plug pressing into her from her spread thighs where she knelt to him, as his mouth dipped open again and his shoulders shuddered minutely at her touch. Kenzie didn’t wait again--she gripped the ring and carefully, but with deep, concentrated insistence, pushed it onto his cock to the base, watching with a burst of intense heat into the bottom of her belly how it twinged with redness, immediately constricted.

“Ung, Kenzie, fuck me, holy fuck,” Duncan murmured, his hands drifting dangerously close to the ring, to his length, his eyes furiously bright, and Kenzie shook her head.

“No, baby. You can’t. Only I can take it off.”

“Fuck, baby, angel, I can’t--”

Kenzie stood, grasping his cock again, making him shudder and cry out, his throat convulsing, and she pushed him back down into the tight briefs he wore, zipping the closely tailored slacks and buttoning them, her fingers hooking over the waistline, my tall Prince, her face hovering at his heart, her dark red lips falling against the melting gold and velvet of his jacket to kiss it. The heat that fell away from him over her was blinding--he seemed to be burning, the blue flame of him almost visible to her naked eyes.

“You can, Dunny. It’s for me. My plug is so tight, baby, when I sit down it’s going to make me fucking writhe for you--” and Duncan went to grasp her but Kenzie said “wash your hands first, baby,” and he stepped back, nodding, turning as Kenzie followed him to the bathroom--she dipped her hands into the sink with his, the soap mingling between them, the Cartier bracelets falling down their wrists and clinking together, Duncan’s face leaning close to her hair, and Kenzie knew he was breathing her scent in. She reached for the hand towel and dipped her hands into it, then Duncan’s hands were pulling it insistently away, gripping her hips and pushing her into the wall, knowing it was okay, knowing he had her permission to hold her, now that both of them were carefully, insistently claimed by the other, both driven to the edge of their desire and now, with terrible need, held there for an undetermined amount of time, and knowing that to touch each other for a moment, a few moments, would be the only relief for hours. His lips fell against hers, her arms dipping up to reach for him, but he grasped her wrists and forced them against the wall, holding her there.

“I’m in fucking agony, baby,” he murmured, and Kenzie shivered, delighted by the strength coiled in his fingers, the strain in his voice. She struggled a little, facetiously, against his grip, and he tightened it as she giggled.

“Good,” she whispered, and she felt the burst of heat fall onto her from him at that. Duncan bit his lip, his eyes falling down her face to the tailored shape of the dress against her breasts, the dip of her throat with the gold braid, diamonds, and the ruby, the diamonds on her wrist she couldn’t take off unless he unlocked it.

“I wanna fucking fuck you, Kenzie.”

“You will, baby. Later. We have a Gala to go to.”

“I don’t fucking care about the Gala.”

“I know. But we have to.”

Duncan whined into her neck, and Kenzie turned her head, the better to feel his lips on her there, turning her head up, lifting her thigh up so it pressed into his crotch, and Duncan groaned, the sound bleeding into a strangled, tiny sob in the back of his throat. His grip loosened on her wrists, enough for her to release one of them, and Kenzie slipped out of his grasp, bringing her hand around to press into his darkly stubbled cheek, smooth with the dusting of concealer Georgio had put there. Not that he needs it. His skin is already so smooth and beautiful.

Kenzie tapped his cheek with an insistent little snap. “Bad boy is gonna fuck me so good later, aren’t you. My Prince is gonna fucking fuck my brains out.”

“Uh huh. I fucking am. I wanna do it right fucking now--”

She brought her hand up and let it come down again, this time with a more insistent little tap into his cheekbone. Duncan’s breath hitched.

“Kenzie, do it again. Harder. Tell me to calm the fuck down. I’m too hard and I can’t think straight. Fuck, baby, please. Slap me.”

Kenzie nodded and brought her hand up, Duncan still clutching her other wrist to the wall--she made sure her palm was very flat this time, and brought it down with a swift snap. This time Duncan’s face pitched to the side and his eyes fluttered closed with the low pain of it, and he stepped back from her, releasing her other wrist. Kenzie brought her hands around him, steadying him at the waist, and he blew out a low breath, eyes earthwards.

“Let’s go to this fucking party, baby,” Kenzie whispered. “I wanna show them how fucking beautiful we are.”

Duncan lifted his eyes, and the wildfire in them stopped her heart again.

“I’m ready, my Queen of Roses.” And Kenzie grinned, bouncing up against him in her platform heels, shaking out her rose-laden hair, leading her dark prince out of their rooms, his hand gripping her train possessively. Kenzie snatched up the little golden clutch Morgan had made for her, and pulled him, between insistent, coaxing kisses, out of the penthouse and into the elevator. Kenzie was absolutely struck by their reflection now, highlighted by brighter lights of the elevator’s interior--Duncan was pulling his phone out of his pocket. We have to, he thought, and Kenzie nodded. Time to show everyone.

Kenzie pressed against him, clutching her hand to his lapels under her chin, turning her head so the roses in her hair were visible in the mirror, her dress pressed to the side, partially enveloped and hidden by Duncan’s dark arm around her waist, but the back of the golden train shimmering in the light. Duncan’s darkly-shadowed eyes glanced into the reflection, his expression defiant and knowing, the dripping gold of his jacket striking, the golden, intricate tips at his collar scintillating under his sharp jawline, the fall of his hair just-so. He lifted his phone, capturing the reflection, bringing it down for her appraisal. Kenzie nodded, looking up at him. Yes, baby. Good. So fucking good.

She watched as he typed a caption. Hades and Persephone ascend to Earth for a party. #weheardyoulikeus #andifyoudontohwell #duckenziesayshiworld

Kenzie giggled and nodded. “Fuck yes, baby.” He continued to hold her against him as he posted the photo, his hand drifting against her shoulder as he bit his lip, squinting at his phone in concentration in the bright light. I love him. I love how earnest he is in our quiet moments together like this.

“Baby, send it to me okay? I want it.”

Duncan nodded into her cheek as the elevator door dinged open to the foyer, and Kenzie could feel the vague pressure of the silicone ring pressing into her hip from where he leaned his crotch against her. His hand drifted down, quickly brushing over her ass, down to the curve above her thighs, where he knew the plug was--Kenzie let out a little cry and slid away from him, hot lines of want coursing down through her belly at his touch, trying to straighten her expression when she saw Anchaly had returned to his desk. Duncan followed behind her, eyes burning on her, his hand still possessively grasping her train in his fist.

“I see you’ve come down to bless the mortals, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Stone,” Anchaly grinned. He had a new book, The New Adam and Eve, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Whatever strain he’d felt over Annette’s visit was now gone from his face, and his eyes were glittering at them again, his posture immediately leaning towards them, as if drawn by a lure. “I’m stunned, Miss Mackenzie, your hair, like the garden of Eden.”

Kenzie twirled for him, smiling at him coyly. Anchaly laughed, delighted, gazing raptly. The way people look at us now, she thought to Duncan. It’s a little bit spooky.

I agree, but who wouldn’t look at you that way, angel.

“Have a wonderful evening. I have no doubt you will, how could you not? As blessed as you are.”

Kenzie watched Duncan’s eyes turn on Anchaly, his dawning expression of recognition.

“Anchaly, we truly are blessed. I’m blessed. I’m grateful. To whatever’s out there. The Fates or...destiny. God. The gods. I’m grateful.” Duncan’s hand went to his hair, slid down his chin, rubbing there, thumb drifting to his lip. Kenzie stepped to him and grasped his hand, felt the immediate cooling contentment of his mind at her touch. Anchaly said nothing, merely continued to look at them admiringly.

“I’m sure your gratitude has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Shepherd. It’s apparent in you now. The change in you is breathtaking. You will do great work together. I can see it like a clear path stretching out ahead. Enjoy yourselves and be happy.”

Kenzie smiled. The smile seemed to extend through all of her body, down to her toes, through the tips of her fingers, into the skin of her cheeks and coursing through the back of her mind and her neck to her spine, shaking through the ends of her hair. She pushed the gold tendrils through herself; I’m so happy I could fucking die, she thought, and she felt the tendrils extend out of her in that moment, stronger than they’d ever been before except in the dream where she’d made the fire grow, and she felt them touch Duncan with deep, abiding strength, and brush against Anchaly with affection, and they both looked at her with expressions that reminded her of effigies in a church, faces turned with fervent eyes--and Duncan’s filled her with conciliation, with the knowledge that with his eyes on her this way, she was truly seen, that he saw beyond the flowers in her hair, the blush on her cheeks, the darkness at her lips, to the secret soul she had long hidden, the one that belonged to him because he had promised to love it with abandon.

Duncan seemed to surface from the vision she had pressed around them; he turned to Anchaly and thanked him, and then he pulled Kenzie out the door (Jerry said nothing, merely beamed at them and stared, his eyes wide) to where Samuel waited, and a sweet summer wind was blowing, cool and soft, and it smelled like long grass and the sun-kissed residue of day, it smelled like the full moon that hovered above them, a scent like small flowers in shadows and the heady musk of damp earth and, wildly, the aching crash of the sea, Kenzie’s eyes glancing to its perfect roundness--it seemed impossibly huge tonight, the sun kissing Her, pressed into an ardent embrace; it’s for us, she thought wildly, stopping Duncan breathlessly, bringing him against her under it, his arms lifting her into his mouth achingly, his tall body so right as it enveloped hers utterly, Kenzie, I’ll love you until the end of time, he was thinking, I’ll love you until time means nothing, and it was as if she could feel the moonlight holding them, feel it pressing soft, cool hands into their hair, smiling on them with serene affection, hoping for their love to find its secret holding place later tonight, urging them to the time when they’d be alone again, tangled in the sheets of the black bed, irrevocably entwined, like Her, held by the Sun, now a part of Her, the source of her light, and Her his most beloved. Duncan, I love you so much the words in my heart have not yet been written in any language. The gold of me is all for you. And the moon saw them, and knew it to be true.

---------

It was five before 8 when Madeline slid carefully into the front seat beside Samuel, who was playing Billie Holiday (I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you) quietly. Momby was wearing one of her gold scarves draped over her shoulders with a brocade Calvin Klein dress, as promised, and she had a lovely rose-gold pin clasping the scarf against her--it was in the shape of a rose, and Kenzie puzzled at it.

“Oh Kenzie Lou, you look beautiful,” her Momby breathed, and Kenzie was reaching her hand through the partition, her emotions bubbling up, threatening to overflow. Her mother’s hand was warm and comforting, deeply familiar. “You too, Duncan. I mean, really. Fucking beautiful.”

Duncan was smiling at her through the window. “Thank you, Madeline. So do you.”

“Momby, where did you get that pin? I’ve never seen it before.”

“I had other admirers besides your father when I was young, baby,” was all Madeline said, turning to glance at Samuel. “Why hello, most delightful specimen on God’s green earth.”

Samuel laughed at her, his very white teeth shining out of his mouth in the shadows and dim neon lights of the car’s interior. “Miss Madeline, to see you again is truly a blessing to me. And may I say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Go on, go on,” Madeline took her hand out of Kenzie’s and pressed it to Samuel’s arm. Kenzie balked. Momby. Kenzie pulled her phone out, sending Clairebear a quick text, remembering.

Good luck on your date with Harris tonight!!!! I love you so much. We couldn’t help it, we jumped the gun and posted a picture on Instagram, but here it is again. She attached the photo Duncan had taken of them in the elevator to the text, hit Send, then typed again.

Clairebear, thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know who I would be without you. I’m so emotional tonight, it’s like my body is on fire. Duncan and I are going away for a few days after this, his family has a cabin by Deep Creek Lake, it’s a few hours away. He found out he’s adopted and no one ever told him until now, so it’s been really difficult for him. I don’t know how the phone service is out there, and I’ll still have my phone, but I think we’re going to try to go off the grid a little bit.

She hit Send, then typed again, Duncan’s hand drifting to her leg. “I’m texting Claire,” she murmured to him, and he nodded, his eyes closed, his mouth in her hair, blue waves tenderly brushing against her body.

Duncan and I have been having some really strange experiences with each other lately. It’s hard to describe. Strange dreams and other things that should just be impossible. I’ll tell you more about it when we get back. I think we need to figure out what it means and I feel really strongly that if we go off to the woods we’ll find the thing we’re looking for. Not sure why, but that’s what it feels like. When we get back, I think we’ll know more about all of it.

Claire, I love you forever.

They were already pulling up to the Shepherd mansion’s gate, and the moment, the reality of the Gala, which had seemed so far away, had finally arrived. Kenzie slipped her phone back into her clutch, turning to gaze out the window--around the gate were at least two hundred people, some non-credentialed press, some clearly fans. Kenzie noticed with a jolt of recognition that Lindy and Gabby were among them--Gabby was holding a sign that said DUCKENZIE WE LOVE YOU STOP AND BE FRIENDLY, her curly red hair shimmering in the street lamps that lined the tall, impenetrable white fence that stretched around the property. Kenzie grinned--referencing one of my favorite movies is a good way to get my attention, she thought, and leaned to Samuel.

“Samuel, stop here for a minute,” and Duncan balked, trying to grab her hand.

“No, Kenzie, Harris isn’t here--”

“It’s okay, baby, I promise. It’s okay.” She looked steadily into his eyes. I can do this. Watch me.

Kenzie pressed the door open and stepped out onto the curb, and immediately a swarm of press gathered around her--Duncan was getting out of the car behind her, his expression deeply creased with concern. Kenzie took a deep breath and pushed outward--for a moment her body tingled wildly, her mind compressing and her head feeling impossibly heavy, pushing her chin down--and then the air around her seemed to calm, the summer wind that had been blowing seemed to stop, and the frantic shouting of the press around her lowered as if someone had turned a dial on stereo, their pressing dispersing, like leaves scattering, caught in a tiny tornado that spread them back. There, that’s better, she thought, and reached for Duncan’s hand. His expression was stunned now, gazing at her in bewildered wonder, and Kenzie smiled at him earnestly. I told you, Dunny, it’s okay. Come on.

She stepped up to Gabby and Lindy, who hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual, somehow; they were hopping excitedly, squealing and reaching out to her.

“Kenzie, Kenzie, we made you something!” Lindy held out a large squarish object that turned out to be a handmade scrapbook full of fan messages--Kenzie held it gently and nodded. “You look like a goddess tonight,” Lindy said, then unceremoniously the small girl burst into tears.

“Oh, Lindy, it’s okay--don’t cry,” Kenzie was pulling the girl against her gently, and Gabby was biting her lip, clearly hovering near tears as well. “Thank you so much, Duncan and I looked at the website, it’s absolutely beautiful. You two definitely have a career in web design. Maybe we can hire you for Shepherd Unlimited someday.” Gabby rocked back on her heels (both girls were wearing long flowery dresses, and their earnest loveliness pressed on Kenzie’s heart), her eyes fluttering in disbelief. “Oh, Kenzie, really? Thank you so much for looking at it, we’ve been working so hard, so, so hard.” Kenzie let go of Lindy, opening her clutch and handing the girl a tissue from it.

“Girls, we have to go, but it was so nice to see you again,” Duncan murmured to them, taking the scrapbook from Kenzie’s hands, grasping her with tight fingers. Kenzie quickly leaned and kissed Lindy’s tear-stained cheek, then Gabby’s, blushing and hot, pushing gold tendrils into them, watching Lindy’s face calm and soften. There. No more tears, sweet. I see you. She gave them both a little wave as she stepped back, then turned to the other people gathered around them, gazing at Kenzie and her interactions with the two girls with awed expressions. Suddenly the night was strangely quiet; the moon looked down on the scene, and everyone stared at Kenzie, a hush falling over the hubbub of the crowd.

“Next time,” she said, nodding, turning to the press, and then Duncan pulled her insistently back into the car, Samuel whipping the BMW around to the open gate, where several security guards were keeping the fans and other press back, ushering cars through to the mansion entrance. Kenzie heard the sounds of the crowd resume as the car drove on; that was really strange.

“Kenzie, why in the world would you do that?” Madeline was scolding her, looking back at her with an exasperated expression. “Your bodyguard is off duty and Duncan went as white as a sheet. He still is, look.”

“It’s important to be to be kind to people, Momby,” was all Kenzie said. Duncan didn’t say anything, putting the scrapbook from the girls down at his feet, still holding her hand tightly. Kenzie could see that he was a little pale under the dark eyeshadow, but his thoughts were even now. I know why you did it, baby. I love how brave you are, even if I’m not. Even when you do--whatever it is you do. I’m still afraid for your safety, my sweet Kenzie.

I know, baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just feel like I--I really feel like I need to be kind to those girls. Like I WANT to be kind to them. They can see our love and they’re moved by it. I want them to know we see them, too, and how earnest they are. How lovely.

Samuel had made it to the entrance, which Kenzie could see was heralded tonight with huge banners running from the edge of the sidewalk to the entrance, the doors thrown wide tonight to expose the opulent foyer of Annette Shepherd’s mansion. Some of the banners had the Shepherd Unlimited logo (an SU in white Verdana script with cobalt blue fleur de lis on either side) and opulent, swirling gold text on a black background that read 4TH ANNUAL SHEPHERD FREEDOM FOUNDATION GALA: GOLD IN THE DARKNESS and in smaller script The Juxtaposition of Light and Shadow in the Pre-Raphaelite Movement. Between the script banners were picture banners printed stunningly with major Pre-Raphaelite works: Kenzie could make out Rossetti’s Venus Verticordia, Cowper’s Vanity, and Evelyn de Morgan’s The Field of the Slain, alongside others obscured from her seat. The glowing feeling she’d felt with Gabby and Lindy faded out into nervous excitement now, and she felt her throat clench, her hands going cold as blood rushed to her head. She shifted, feeling the press of the plug inside her, sending sharp pricks of intensity up her spine and through her thighs. Duncan clutched her hand more tightly, and she knew he was thinking about the clenching weight of the ring at his cock, could feel the intensity of his desire for her, like lightning bolts of needling sensation, infiltrating the corners of her mind. Hang in there, baby, and she turned to him, smiling nervously, his eyes intent on her as he bit his lip. We have a long way to go.

“Earth to Kenzie and Duncan,” Madeline called into the backseat, her voice impatient. “Your mother is fucking starving!”

Kenzie glanced out the window again--between the rows of banners on either side of the entranceway was a lush black carpet, stretching into the mansion and beyond her eyesight. There were at least a hundred people milling around on it now--the press was confined to the sidelines by gold ropes, photographers to a stretch around the middle of the walkway, a black backdrop visible with the Shepherd logo and various sponsor logos printed along it. Kenzie recognized several Senators and Congresspeople, as well as the Mayor and Vice President Usher, and also recognized several well-known celebrities with a little burst of shyness--get it together Kenz, you’re a celebrity now too, in your own right.

You’re the most important person here, she heard Duncan’s thought to her. I mean it, Kenz.You are. Don’t fucking worry about any of them. Tonight, this is for you. It’s about you. They’re going to see. Kenzie felt a rush of nerves, an aching affection for him, full of gratitude and desire and love, and she quickly dipped her mouth up to his and brought her hand to his hair, then she pulled away before he could deepen it--and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the carpet.

Kenzie’s eyes widened as the collective eyes of the press and photo pools drifted over to the BMW--as one, they seemed to shift all their energy and attention onto her and her alone, giving her the acute feeling of a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. Duncan was exiting behind her, and then a short-haired valet hurrying up to them, a flushed look on his face, pulling the front passenger’s open for Madeline, who gave him an appraising stare over her glasses as Kenzie felt the eyes of the guests now turning onto them as well--she locked eyes with Mark Usher for a moment, her blood going cold, and his expression was indecipherable to her, but Kenzie knew he knew who she was, which made her feel as though someone had usurped her body and put a mask on it. The Vice President can’t possibly know me, little ol’ Mackenzie Stone. How the fuck? Life makes no fucking sense anymore.

“Darlings, please, distract them from me,” Madeline turned her head to Duncan, who was holding his hand reassuringly at the small of Kenzie’s back as she stood stock-still, frozen and trapped in her thoughts. “I need to get to the refreshment table post-haste. Kiss or something.”

“You know I’m going to kiss her, Madeline,” Duncan smiled. “As often as possible and as long as she’ll let me.”

“That’s my boy.”

Madeline set out ahead of them before Kenzie could stop her, pausing to made a snide comment to a woman with platinum blonde hair and a monstrous dress that seemed to be made of the tinselly tassels of cheerleader pompoms in gold and white towards the front of the press area. The woman’s face pinched into a mask of dislike at Kenzie’s mother, and Kenzie fought the urge to laugh.

“Who’s that?” She whispered to Duncan, unable to look away from the horrible dress the woman wore. Kenzie felt acutely that she recognized her from somewhere, but couldn’t decipher where.

“It’s Gretchen Friedrichs,” Duncan answered in a dark tone. “She has a popular conservative web series called Patriot Watch. And she’s absolutely awful. I hope Madeline just told her to fuck off into a black hole. She’s going to try to talk to you. Ignore her.”

Duncan twined his fingers through Kenzie’s, his other hand coming down to her train to drape it over his arm, and he stepped forward, pulling her gently. Time to go, sweet Kenzie. You look as beautiful as a falling star. I know how brave you are. This is nothing for you. A piece of cake. They were nearing the press pool, the whole of which had turned their attention utterly on Kenzie and Duncan, making the hairs on Kenzie’s arms rise with the intensity of their stares. The energy was suddenly dense, suffocating, almost savage, and it made Kenzie want to turn and run back to the BMW--but the BMW wasn’t there anymore, Samuel had driven away. Too late, Kenz, you’re in it now. Kenzie glanced at Duncan, feeling her heart clench, feeling as though there was water in her ears, blocking her hearing, and she felt horribly dizzy for a moment. He’s so beautiful, all in gold and black, as beautiful as the evening, as divine as an angel with dark wings, Prince Duncan from high in his opulent tower, and who am I, but little Mackenzie Stone, tripping over her own feet, crying over every little thing, with her shitty little apartment and her shitty little tchotkes, her shitty little plants and her little goofy button face--

Kenzie. Remember when you had the nightmare? Breathe like that. Just breathe, baby. I love you more than anything on this earth. You know how extraordinary you are--but I’ll tell you again. You’ve felt it when our minds come together this way--you’ve felt it in our bed, how you’ve made me needy for you beyond all desire I’ve ever experienced, and you’ve felt it in the way you can bring comfort to others just by willing it into them. Mackenzie Stone. You are not a little of anything. You are a gold ocean of impossible depth. Now breathe. I love you. Show them. Duncan’s eyes were twin pools of sapphiric water--they knew her, and saw her, and accepted her utterly, worshipped her, and she knew it.

Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, and breathed out through her mouth. Then she went up to Gary Spencer and Sissy Conners, past Gretchen Friedrichs who shouted “Mackenzie, Mackenzie, does this mean you’re a Republican now?” and smiled at them--and when she smiled, rather than pressing the gold outward, Kenzie swirled it, stirred it, in the pit of her body, stirred it high into herself, and moved it through her mind. Mackenzie. You truly are that brave person Duncan believes you to be. Think of everything that’s happened. This is really nothing. You’re together. You are the sceptre, he is the sword. Eternal and unshaking.

The last of the thought came unbidden, a jarring, nonsensical certainty that she didn’t understand, and Kenzie blinked, moving it away from herself, refocusing on the high, heady boldness she could feel building in herself now. She shifted, resurfacing to reality, feeling the plug pressing into her again, pressing hot fingers into the sensitivity of her muscles and senses. Our secret, baby, here among all these people.

“Mackenzie, how are you feeling tonight?” Sissy was holding a microphone out to her, her smile too wide and too white, her dress a blinding, extremely tight bodycon in dark gold snakeskin. “You look absolutely exquisite, an absolute vision, I know you mentioned yesterday that Morgan Winthrop designed your look for tonight, but what’s the concept here, beyond the theme?”

“I’m the concept,” Kenzie was tilting her head down, batting her eyelashes slowly, giving her best Kenzie-wants-something-from-Momby look--one she’d perfected over a lifetime--aware the camera on Ricky’s shoulder behind them was zeroed on her. She glanced to the side--Duncan was saying something to Gretchen in a low voice, still clutching the end of Kenzie’s train, his expression dark. Gretchen looked like she’d swallowed something sour, and Kenzie looked back at the BPF reporters, a satisfied twinge floating through her mind. “Duncan was inspired by me. By our relationship. We both love mythology and we’re drawn to the myth of Hades and Persephone, so we kind of went with something along those lines, but--I feel wonderful, I can’t wait to see the set-up inside, I just love the banners already. I know everyone’s been working so hard. I love the romanticism of all of it, and I’m so happy Duncan and I are finally getting a chance to step out publically together, so, yeah--I’m just really happy to be here. And to show off Morgan’s extraordinary talents.” She grinned at Sissy, who was gaping at her with surprise. Duncan finally appeared at her elbow; he’d set her train down behind them, and Kenzie turned her head over her shoulder to glance down at it, fanning like a gold river over a black landscape, then turned her face up to him, her smile still wide. I fucking love you, baby. She grasped his hand and Sissy switched the microphone to Duncan now, her expression one of wonder, speaking rapidly.

“Duncan, wow--the look. The eyeshadow, the gold jacket, the collar--you two are just so incredibly beautiful together, there’s now an internet shorthand for your relationship, “Duckenzie”, which I’m sure you’re both aware of, I’ve heard you have a fan club now and your Instagrams are the most popular on the internet lately--I saw you already posted a shot of your looks for tonight and it’s racked up a quarter of a million likes already--is there anything you would say to your fans around the world? They seem to be growing by the hour, and tonight is sure to bring you more.”

“We think everyone is wonderful,” Kenzie said, and turned to Duncan, drifting gold against him. Everyone can see, baby. I feel it. He nodded, smiling down at her, his dark look shivering against her heart again, his thumb pressing into her palm, suggestive, hidden. “And good things are coming,” he said.

“Duncan, can you elaborate on that?” Gary said, his eyes switching back and forth between them, puzzled, rapt.

“It’ll be clearer in time,” Kenzie said to him, staring at him steadily for a long moment. Gary seemed utterly shaken by them; Kenzie could see sweat had broken out on his brow, and he looked away from her after a moment, nervously. “Thanks, Sissy, Gary. Thanks.”

“Have...a wonderful time.”

Sissy’s voice suddenly seemed tiny, far different from the boisterous tone she usually used. Kenzie could see the confusion in the other woman’s eyes--as if she’d seen something she couldn’t explain, something that had shaken her to the core. It’s us, Kenzie knew. Sissy saw us for a moment. Not me and Duncan, not really--she saw those other selves. The ones we see in our dreams sometimes. The ones that cannot be described in words. She saw us, just the tiniest bit, reflected from us like a mirror held up to another time and place. She felt us. Kenzie pulled Duncan away from the press pool, and to the black backdrop, turning towards where fifty photographers crouched on specially designed pews--their flashes immediately blinded her, made her suck her breath in, their voices rising in a cacophony so she could barely decipher one from the next.

“You got this, baby,” Duncan was whispering down into her ear, his hand snaking around her waist again. “Duncan! Mackenzie! Over here! Mackenzie, you look gorgeous! Mackenzie! You look beautiful Mackenzie! Duncan, this way, thank you! We love you, over here! You’re so lovely together! Duckenzie, look this way! Thank you! Duckenzie forever!” And Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh, dipping her head to showcase the dark rosebuds in her hair, Duncan turning his face down to her temple, his smile making her laugh again as he clutched her against him, their Cartier bracelets visibly crossed at their wrists for the onlookers, the shattering rhythm of the cameras rising higher, frenzied to capture the moment between them, the voices of the photographers clashing again and again against each other, and Kenzie felt absolutely drunk to be in his arms this way, suddenly forgetting the dozens of cameras facing them, feeling the pressure of the hidden ring at his groin pressing against the dip of her abdomen, making her shudder in his arms with tiny, almost imperceptible tension, and she could hear a kind of rising sigh from the photographers, a murmuring admiration that seemed to be making Duncan flushed, seemed to be kindling his boldness--he turned his face down to her, opening his mouth just so, kissing her in a rapturous, fluid movement that caused an audible gasp from the rows of cameras, a collective exclamation of gratification that elated her.

His lips bruised against her for a tender, tiny eon--Kenzie lost herself against him for the span of it, her eyes closing to the intensity of the camera flashes, the sound of the shouting mob floating away from her ears, her mind drifting to them alone in their bed in the blessed darkness, his strong, elegant hands tying her to the chain with velvet ribbon, that first kiss, that night on the balcony covered in roses, god, my life changing forever in your arms in an instant, beloved, the unbearable softness with which he’d first touched her, his hands falling to the sides of her face, the urgency of his mouth then, the venerate devotion in his mouth now--and then Duncan was breaking away from her, as if remembering himself, remembering that they were caught in the gaze of at least two hundred people in this moment, and they resurfaced to reality, both of them trembling against each other, longing for the moment where Kenzie knew, and could feel that Duncan knew, they could finally be alone. Alone together, the only thing I ever want now, ever.

There was another audible, collective sigh from the photographers as Duncan gently pulled Kenzie beyond the backdrop--this one of disappointment at the moment ending, Kenzie knew, frustration that they were leaving. They adore us, Kenzie thought. And she knew it was absolutely true; knew it, without ego or pretense, as she knew the full moon was hanging over them, watching the night unfold. They see it too.

Duncan was pulling her away from the frenzied press of the carpet--Kenzie could now see that almost everyone around them was watching them, but everyone seemed to be afraid to speak to them, eyes flitting over Duncan’s dripping-gold jacket, the striking shadow around his eyes, over the fall of her hair and the Cartier diamonds at her throat and on her wrist, falling down the shimmering gold of her bodice and the gentle dip of the sleeves, the train drifting behind her. No one dared to tread on her--Kenzie recognized a very famous actor, watched him carefully avoid the train, his eyes roving up over her form hungrily, and she met his gaze with a tiny smile. He looked away, sheepishly, blushing. I suppose one doesn’t dare mess with the Shepherds, generally speaking. Not for the first time, and she suspected, not the last, Kenzie remembered that Duncan was part of a very, very wealthy family, and that likely, he would soon be the inheritor of that immense wealth.

And then we’ll change the world, baby.

Kenzie gazed raptly at the foyer as Duncan helped her up the steps and through the double-doors, looping her hand into the crook of his arm, pressing her fingers into the muscles there, feeling him clench them at her touch. More baby, touch me more. There were dozens more of the banners here, Hughes’ Ophelia, Burne-Jones’ The Golden Stairs, but the angels of Waterhouse’s St. Cecilia caught her eye immediately--their sweet faces calm and reticent, watching the saint in her slumber, their innocence and sincerity clamoring into her heart. They look like Gabby and Lindy, Kenzie thought, remembering Lindy’s tears. My two little angels. Duncan looked back at her, noticing the emotion in her. She shook her head a little.

“It’s all just so beautiful, Dunny,” she whispered, and he was nodding to her, the dark beauty of him in the chandeliers moving her further still, moving her beyond words again. He brought his arm around her to drift down her back, pulling her beside the staircase, out of the way of the people around them, sliding his fingers down to the beginning of the incline of her ass, and she drifted back from him, shaking her head. No, baby, don’t. It’s too much. There are too many people. You need to be patient. She saw the terrible longing floating behind his eyes, saw the blue flames licking around her from him, and she smiled. Poor, poor baby. Is that ring making you ache and ache for me?

Yes, Kenzie, fuck. So fucking much. It’s almost unbearable. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

My poor, sweet baby. Kenzie went back to him, letting him grip her under her bare arms with his hot fingers, letting him press his mouth against her cheek, onlookers be damned. Let them look. Annette was nowhere to be seen here--Kenzie’s eyes skirted across the room as Duncan continued to kiss down to her ear, pressing into her. She must be in the room beyond. I don’t know how we’re going to avoid her, but we’re going to.

“We should probably find Momby, make sure she hasn’t fallen into a fondue fountain somewhere.”

“God, I just want you alone,” Duncan’s mouth was shivering into the dip of her ear, bringing the delicate hairs at the back of her neck up, his hands drifting at the smooth gold under her breasts. “I just want you all to myself, angel.” Kenzie could see people staring at them, eyes hungry; god, I don’t know who a lot of these people are, but they look fucking important.

“Shhh, really baby, we should find Momby, okay? Please?”

At that moment Kenzie’s eyes zeroed on a figure making a determined beeline for them from the other side of the foyer--Duncan was still pressing his mouth into her ear, sucking and biting there with urgency, his whispers having quieted to now drift secretly in her mind, and he hadn’t noticed the figure yet. It was a woman, and she was petite, like Kenzie, and beautiful, with wide, long-lashed eyes, full lips and a button nose, but rail-thin, her chin jutting towards them as though she were being pulled by an invisible force. She had long, artfully styled platinum hair, falling over her shoulder in expertly arranged waves, and her dress was a sculptured black bodice decorated with intricate gold embroidery, accentuating her minute waist, which fell into a voluptuous cascade of black tulle that seemed to buoy her across the room. At her throat was a huge yellow diamond, so large Kenzie wondered for a moment how she was holding her head up. Her fists were clenched at her sides as if she were bitterly angry, but a wide smile was plastered across her face, exposing all her teeth (like a crocodile, Kenzie thought). Her dark eyes were staring, eerily unblinking, at the back of Duncan’s head, and at Kenzie.

Marissa Montague.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, trying to pull back from him, but he continued to kiss at her, lost for a moment, “Duncan, it’s--”

“Duncan Shepherd! Duncan, oh my god, I’ve been so busy lately, it’s been so hard to call you!” Marissa had reached them, and her voice pitched high, dipping towards uneven, though her smile remained plastered on her face, stretching her cheeks to what looked like an almost painful degree to Kenzie. Duncan stopped kissing Kenzie’s neck, but his mouth still hovered close to her, his arms still clutched tightly around her. Kenzie looked over his shoulder into Marissa’s eyes; she could see the coiled snake that rested behind them, the wanton need, now that Marissa was this close. But not for Duncan, not really, Kenzie knew. What she wants is attention--fame, attention everlasting from the multitude, and to be showered in riches, but her thirst for them is insatiable. There’s a hole inside her that gnaws with hungry teeth, and it has never had its fill, not once. So she searches for more food for it.

Duncan turned his head slowly to look at Marissa, and Kenzie saw the cast of a dark storm inside his eyes, felt the blue flame of him, shimmering, flare up with discomfort. Oh, no FUCKING way, she heard his thought, and slid her fingers down his arm, soothing him with her touch. It doesn’t matter, baby, I’m here. We’re together. Let them try to get between us. Let her try. Let anyone.

“Why would you be calling me anyway, Marissa?” Duncan was gazing at her evenly, still holding Kenzie close, his hand drifting in her hair, over the rosebuds. Kenzie could feel the wave of anger in him, feel the drifting measure of dislike. She’s lovely on the outside, Kenzie thought, but inside there is something gone, like it was ripped out of her and only the ragged void remains, a void she longs to fill but cannot. Poor Marissa. She instantly felt empathy for the other woman, seeing her so closely, felt embarrassed for her, as if Marissa were suddenly naked. As lovely as the actress was, Kenzie could immediately see how deeply discontent she was, how full of voracious need.

“Well, we never really finished what we started, now did we?” Marissa stepped forward, the smile that had been plastered faltering a little, her eyes skirting to Kenzie with annoyance, her hand snatching out, attempting to grasp his velvety arm. Duncan stepped out of her reach, pulling Kenzie to the side with him, his mouth curling up ever-so-slightly.

“And we never will. Marissa, this is my girlfriend--my partner--Mackenzie Stone. I’m sure you’ve read about her. Kenzie, this is Marissa Montague.”

“Of course,” and Kenzie forced herself to smile politely, bringing out a hand, Duncan’s cheek pressing against her hair, refusing to let go of her or let Marissa near him. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Marissa ignored the hand, crossing her arms now, barking out a little laugh.

“Partner,” she mimicked. “Since when have you ever had a partner, Duncan? We all know your reputation. You used to bring a different fuck buddy home every night, I was there back then, when we were all hanging around with the Ducatis and doing a mountain of cocaine every day.” Marissa plastered the grin back on her face. “I can see why you’re stringing this one along, though, what a scrumptious little pussy cat.” Marissa brought her hands up to her face and pressed them in a V against her mouth, flicking her tongue out.

This woman has no interest in sex, Kenzie knew, despite Marissa’s lewd gesture. Marissa’s eyes flicked over to her again with a measure of loathing, and Kenzie caught her gaze this time, trapping Marissa’s dark, intense eyes. In fact, it disgusts and bores her. But she is practiced at the art of pretending. She’ll fake interest in anything if she thinks it can move her to where she thinks she wants to be. Sometimes, though, she’s disillusioned by the reality versus her expectation. And she always wants more. Like a wind that howls endlessly.

“Marissa. What do you want?” Duncan’s tone dipped, and Kenzie could feel his anger beginning to stir, his frustration and lust for her pressing against the anger, kindling it further, his sorrow and disillusionment with his mother pressing there too, and his energy became ragged and chaotic, the turmoil in him suddenly like water boiling over. She concentrated, conjuring wave after wave of translucent gold in her mind, staring at Marissa evenly as she pressed them down over him in his arms. I have no animosity in my heart for you, she thought to the other woman. In fact, I feel acute sympathy for you. I’m sorry you’re trapped in a world where you cannot possibly be yourself.

“I want you to ditch this penniless, raggedy bitch, Duncan. What are you doing? I mean, who even is she? Do you realize what you’re doing to your reputation? Really, it’s embarrassing.” Marissa was rolling her eyes, fingers toying with the huge diamond at her neck, another mirthless laugh barking out of her. “I’m gonna go do a line in the bathroom, and you should join me. I mean, it’s silly that we stopped seeing each other. I’m willing to forgive you if you’ll just get rid of her.”

“Marissa. You’re embarrassing yourself right now. Please, go away. Immediately.” Duncan’s tone was quiet and very low. “Go away or I’ll have you escorted off the premises.”

Marissa scoffed. “Duncan Shepherd, you can’t fucking do that.”

“Marissa.”

Kenzie had been watching from the cocoon of Duncan’s arms, but a hot, blinding energy had been building behind her temples for the last few minutes, one that seemed to want to burst from her mouth and her eyes and the corners of her fingertips; seemed alive and impatient, shot through with sunlight, and the power of the energy, the feeling in the center of her belly, was immense, like the dream where she’d made the fire grow. The energy, Kenzie knew, could do whatever she willed it to do--could move objects, could stop them, could distort the air, could freeze it, could move unseeable things, reverse them, rewind them. The knowledge of the immensity of the energy overwhelmed her for a moment--and Kenzie felt sure that though this woman had some strange power of her own (it was like indigo, the color of her, like indigo that ached, and the thing Marissa ached for was a thing she couldn’t find, like a lost portion of her heart that had tumbled down a dark well, never to be retrieved from the depths again), Kenzie was calm in the certainty that hers was greater, because it was lighter, it was the gold that could move all things, the gold that could heal, and the gold that could shield from all darkness.

“Marissa,” Kenzie said again, focusing her eyes inside the other woman’s. “It’s over. You will not be able to move him again. You must stop now. It’s futile.” The world has shifted, she thought now, into Marissa’s wide brown eyes, the words clear in her mind, as if she’d read them in an ancient book. The path is set. Yours goes somewhere else. To attempt to alter our destiny--the High Destiny--will result in your personal destruction. Stop now, little one.

The air seemed to cool, to thin. The three of them were inside the energy now; the energy that had come from the center of Kenzie, that she had somehow pressed out, controlled, to only the cocoon of their circle. The other guests seemed to drift past them as if in a dream, not glancing at them, as if they didn’t see the cocoon at all, as if she, Duncan and Marissa were suddenly invisible--it’s working, Kenzie thought. Let’s see if I can move her away from us now.

Marissa’s expression had fallen from the obscene, mocking smile to one of confusion and apprehension--her eyes widened, her head whipping back and forth inside the cocoon Kenzie had created around them, and she seemed utterly bewildered.

“What the fuck,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Marissa, I’m sorry. I can see how cold you’ve felt, and for so long. Good luck on your path. Look for something that won’t harm others. Look for something to protect. I promise, if you can find that, you will be happy someday. Go now. Forget about Duncan. That’s all over. He is not yours, not at this time, and not in any time.”

And with those words spoken, Kenzie pushed Marissa out of the cocoon she had built, and Marissa turned, as if in a dream, and walked away from them, not looking back, her blonde hair and tulle skirt retreating until she had turned the corner of the vast parlor beyond, and they could no longer see her. Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, counted. As she did, she could hear her heart beating frantically, feel the tiny shaking in Duncan’s arms as he held her, His face had pressed against her temple again, his eyes closed, and he looked almost meditative, but Kenzie could feel the confusion inside him; he doesn’t understand what I did, either. But he trusts me. He trusts me now. He knows I’d never hurt him, never, never in this world. He knows I will always protect him. And I will, baby. I always will.

Then she breathed out, and the spell broke; the cocoon dissipated, and they were back in the foyer of the Shepherd mansion, the sounds of clinking glasses, lilting piano music, and blue-blooded voices speaking in polite cadences bleeding back into the background. Duncan opened his eyes to stare into hers, and the storms there had dissipated--their blue was calm now, like the sky bleeding into a summer evening, like the moon’s reflection on a pool of water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?”

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